


Take It There

by Lilia_ula



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A Thinly Veiled Excuse For Food and Drink Porn, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, BDSM elements, Beware the Fugu, Biting, Brief Memory Loss, Coping Mechanisms, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Fantasy, Demon Hierarchy and Politics, Demon Kylo Ren, Demons Will Be Demons, Dive In At The Deep End Of Debauchery, Does Numbing Count as Being Drugged?, Don't copy to another site, Edging, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Horror/Fantasy Elements, Human Rey, It's The Least I Could Do, Loss of Virginity, Marking, Mentions of Suicide, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Permanent Bodily Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Public Claiming, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rey Is Made Of Stern Stuff, Reysexual Demon Kylo, Ritualistic Bonding, Seattle Scene, Sexual Coercion, Sort-of Aftercare, Spanking, SwoloFic, Testing the Waters, Twisted Spin On A Force Bond, Underwater Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2019-10-28 01:13:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17777753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilia_ula/pseuds/Lilia_ula
Summary: Rey is an independent loner who's managed to triumph over every hardship life has thrown at her. Her cat-like ability to land on her feet is tested when she is singled out by one of Lucifer's chosen—an Archfiend who takes a keen personal interest in her. With a single bad decision and a prick of the finger, she is bound to him irrevocably.OR:What might a Force bond look like if it were viewed through the lens of demonic possession? We aren't talking "The Exorcist" sort-of-possession here, folks.





	1. Find Me In The Club

**Author's Note:**

> To my girl [stories_in_my_head](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stories_in_my_head/pseuds/stories_in_my_head) for _always_ being right there when I need a friend. Thank you for your help and support with this fic and all the others! You give a girl confidence to misbehave. ; )
> 
> *Extra love to ChristinaTorbrook, who helped me shine this up. She's a goddamn SW wizard and is unapologetic in her love for Dark!Kylo. Check out her addictive writing [HERE.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristinaTorbrook/pseuds/ChristinaTorbrook/works)
> 
> Translations are given in _Italics._
> 
> Intrepid readers, be welcome! _Get out while you still can._ A bit about the rottenness that follows: I undertook this fic as an exercise of my own thresholds. _I wanted to see just how low I could go._ I've been writing for roughly a year now and have come to see certain patterns I tend to stay within, a comfort zone of sorts. _SmutSmutSmut. Plus Happy Ending™_ I wanted to test mine a bit, stretch at those boundaries and challenge myself. _The smut stays, the happy ending goes, and shit gets darker._ Read on for a taste of my own personal journey into the underworld, and welcome to my train wreck. 
> 
> So, here we go with some additional warnings. Because I care about happy readers.  
> 1.) There will be non-consensual sex throughout this fic, and although I soften the blow in my own way, at no point will it veer toward consensual.  
> 2.) No happy ending, folks. Kylo is a bonafide demon, and Rey is a human, albeit a badass one. When you do the math, it comes up the same. The playing field is hopelessly skewed, and not in her favor.  
> 3.) No redemption. No fluff. No light. This is darkfic through and through.  
>  **UPDATE: It got weirdly fluffy, still totally twisted, but...I dunno. I guess darkfic lite? Something in between?**  
>  4.) I may choose to post additional trigger warnings in notes on certain chapters. I know it can ruin surprises, but I'd rather stray on the side of reader consideration. If you're not easily triggered, just put on your blinders and go straight to the chapter! 
> 
> Just know that if you assume the worst going forward, you'll be okay. *wink wink*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night out at the club goes off the rails when Rey is singled out by a supernatural entity.

_Songspiration:_[Cola](youtu.be/V0cdFmSCQNo), by CamelPhat, Elderbrook, Robin Schultz Remix

 

 

 

 

11:09 pm. Saturday night in the SoDo.

 

Icy rain fell in sheets, illuminated in the artificial halos of streetlamps. Rey peered out of the cab window, squinting through the deluge to map the route to her destination. She thanked the driver and flipped her hood over her head, exiting fast to make a mad dash down the alley. Her footfalls sent up small splashes as she ran, dodging deeper puddles to finally duck beneath the shelter of an incongruous awning.

 

At the back of the alcove was a set of heavy double doors, nondescript but for the red hieroglyphic symbols that crawled vertically down their surface. A beefy man in a bomber jacket stood at the threshold, his arms crossed and expression guarded by a mirrored pair of sunglasses. To his left was a built-in, glass-fronted booth housing a sullen cashier.

 

Rey glanced at the bouncer from under her hood, making eye contact before approaching the pale girl in her dimly-lit booth. Neither smiled, which suited her just fine.

 

She wasn’t here to make friends.

 

An exchange of bills and several swipes of a wand later and she was pushing through the double doors and into another world entirely. She paused, her eyes adjusting to the dimness. The heavy pound of percussion vibrated through her body like an old lover come around, and Rey bit back a satisfied smile.

 

The club was a throbbing, cavernous wonderland – just the way she liked – a perfect place to disappear.

 

She located the coat check and discarded her wet jacket before exploring a little. There were several hallways behind her lit with an eerie green light, like portals to unearthly realms. A long bar thronged with people sat to the left, while the dancefloor opened up to the right, taking up the majority of the vast warehouse.

 

Rey ignored the bar entirely, passing through banks of dappled fog to skirt around the frothing sea of dancers.

 

Reaching a back wall, she leaned back against it and scanned the scene with hooded eyes. The DJ perched above the action in his crows-nest booth, and half-naked dancers contorted in cages. On the far wall was a stage. She could make out various props set up there: lengths of chain swinging above the raised platform, sporting an assortment of manacled bars. A glorified sawhorse-like contraption and various other paraphernalia. From the look of it, there was to be some kind of BDSM show later.

 

Her eyes passed dismissively over the setup, moving on to that which drew her in the first place: the floor. Emerald laser lights lanced through the thick fog as the music began its abduction. Her hum of bliss went unheard as the rush of energy bled through her muscles, infecting her. The relentless beats drove that antsy feeling higher with each passing second, demanding she move.

 

Setting a water bottle down against the wall, she gave in to it, shimmying out to the edge of the floor. Her slender arms joined the ranks, raising up in anticipation, hips beginning to swing as the heavy, repetitive percussion built into an unsustainable frenzy. When the beat dropped, her eyes closed and she was a goner. There in the altered reality of the club, all her cares dissolved as she became a live conduit for restless energy. The music was in her, and she obeyed - her body undulating to the jagged beats, head tossing, lips parted blissfully.

 

 _This._ This was the reason she came to these stash-spot industrial clubs: complete anonymity and utter submersion.

 

Disappearing among the throngs of drugged-out kids, she found deliverance from the stresses of her life, giving herself over to the high born of tireless, frantic dance. Nobody gave a fuck who she was, and nobody bothered her. This sort of place wasn’t for hooking up or socializing  - it was for sweating your kidneys out into sweet oblivion. Rey found the release crazy-addictive, and she came back to it time and again, losing herself in the synthetic beats, dancing until her clothes were soaked and body threatened to collapse from sheer exhaustion.

 

She was caving to a heavy mix of darkwave synth when she saw him.

 

He stood out because he wasn’t dancing, a tall figure frozen in place as sweaty club kids writhed about him, oblivious to the statue-like man in their midst. She frowned slightly, struck by the odd sight. The strobes flickered hypnotically, freezing frames in their brightness.

 

As she stared, his eyes lit a terrible red. She blinked and the unnerving color vanished. The lights were messing with her spun pupils. Had to be...but even so...

 

He was watching her.

 

Her frenetic pace slowed to a series of distracted undulations, watching him back with muted interest. He was handsome in a way that promised trouble. His pale skin virtually glowed in contrast to hair so black it looked blue. His eyes were very dark, though she couldn’t really tell the color what with all of the light effects.

 

 _Red_ , her mind supplied sarcastically.

 

He had a charismatic look that belied the ink that crept tantalizingly up the side of his neck, hinting at much more hidden under the collar of his black leather jacket.

 

The man was tall, looming over the kids around him - a modern-day Adonis, his white t-shirt stretched over wide pectorals that tapered to a solid, V-shaped build.

 

With his distinctive looks and height, he belonged in a GAP photo spread, not standing rooted amongst a throng of sweat-soaked, tweaked-out dancers.

 

Hot as he was, she shivered.

 

Something was off. The way he was looking at her was intense, unwavering, _focused_. He had the kind of dark, unblinking stare that made you feel pinned in place from way across the room, and it was having an effect. She realized she’d stopped dancing and was now standing stock-still, as if he’d cast some kind of creepy-ass spell.

 

This guy was ruining her vibe.

 

She found herself frowning in annoyance, unwilling to admit that his behavior was disturbing. Turning her back, she snatched her water bottle from the ground and tipped it to her lips, muttering curses. Rey took her time drinking, hoping that when she looked again, he’d have moved on.

 

When she turned back around, he stood a foot away staring down at her, having crossed the distance with preternatural speed.

 

She squeaked, stumbling back against the cool cement wall in surprise. Recovering herself quickly, she brushed the plastered strands from her forehead and leaned toward him aggressively, twisting her features into the best rendition of pissed-off she could muster.

 

“What the _fuck_ , dude? You need to back it up!” she spat, her eyes flashing.

 

One corner of his generous mouth turned up in a smirk, a completely inappropriate reaction to her anger. He leaned forward, forcing her retreat as he cupped an ear like he couldn’t hear her. His voice was deep, almost metallic, and his eyes sparkled with amusement.

 

“You want me to do _what_?” he asked with a sidelong glance. “Did you say you want me to... _back it up_?”

 

His amusement only served to piss her off further, and her scowl deepened. _This guy was a serious dickhead._

 

Up close, the details of his face were way too clear: a scattering of moles over pale skin, strong nose, dusky eyes framed by low brows. The knuckles of both of his hands crawled with strange symbols, the tattoos appearing black against his fair skin. _What a creep._

 

He was completely ignoring both her words and body language, towering over her and boxing her in.

 

Rey did her best to hide it behind her scowl, but uneasiness had its icy finger upon her breast, and the chill was spreading with each second that passed. He was so much bigger than she and had no qualms about her upset.

 

Instead of backing off, he stared down at her with a hungry expression, his intensity meter cranked to 110%. Much as she hated to admit it, it was unnerving. She felt her muscles tensing as she prepared to bolt sideways and not stop until she was as far as she could get from this asshole.

 

He must have seen her intent, for his expression devolved into something truly predatory as he locked his forearms at her sides, using his superior size to trap her up against the wall.

 

“Oh no. You aren’t going anywhere,” he stated, frightfully calm and assured.

 

She stared up at him with wide green eyes, shocked by such a bold move. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she wished for the first time she hadn’t mouthed off to him. Her gaze darted over his broad shoulders, hoping somebody was seeing what was happening, but the same obliviousness that welcomed her into its fold now forsook her. With a sinking feeling, she shifted her attention back to him. _Her captor._

 

His attention was hyper-focused on her, and she felt a steady drip of unadulterated fear begin to slide down her spine. The club bumped around them, pitching into black as spindly white laser beams sliced erratically through the air.

 

“Something about backing it up…?” he drawled, his smile barely visible in the fractured darkness.

 

She watched with dawning dread as his hand shot out to the side, fingers widened in a gesture for those behind him to _stop…_

 

A strange rushing filled her ears, like the sound of wind becoming a gale. Then all at once, it cut off. An abrupt termination. It took only a millisecond, her mind tripping over itself as she perceived the _wrongness._  Her ears rang in the sudden silence.

 

_What the fff--_

 

Words, even those in her mind, _utterly failed._

 

Her heart spasmed as she stared over his shoulder.

 

 _Everything_ _and everyone had stopped._

 

The back of her neck crawled as fine hairs stood on end, her body physically responding to the eerie stillness. Her eyes moved dazedly over dancers paused in motion. Colored beams slanted through unmoving plumes of fog. The DJ was a statue that guarded frozen turntables. She stared in bewilderment as her eyes spotted tiny dust motes suspended in flight. All of reality had just been halted as easily as hitting the pause button of a remote.

 

She heard herself swallow noisily, her mind failing to understand how this place of overwhelming sound, light, and movement had been brought low by a simple gesture. Fighting, and loosing.

 

Overwhelmed, she closed her eyes, beginning to whimper as true panic flooded her veins, cold and paralyzing. Her hand crept up to pinch herself viciously, bidding herself to wake up, her mind babbling that this had to be some kind of fucked-up dream…

 

A large hand tipped her face up and a gravelly voice cut through the silence.

 

“Is that ‘backed up’ enough for you?”

 

She wrenched her chin from his touch, making to bolt. Large hands gripped her biceps, slamming her back into place against the wall.

 

His voice slid through her mind like a snake in a cradle. _Leaving so soon?_

 

Her wide, frightened eyes met his stare and she quailed, realizing he hadn’t spoken out loud, but that she’d _heard him anyway_. Realizing that, in all this vast cavern of horrors, they alone remained animated and unaffected.

 

 _He’d isolated her_.

 

His gaze was alive once more with sanguine red, and her knees liquified as it dawned... _he wasn’t entirely human._

 

Every second she remained saw her more immobile as secrets were revealed in that bottomless gaze: _ancient, malevolent, powerful, hungry._ She shrank against the wall, wishing she could slip free of the vise of his hands and merge with it.

 

Her eyes fluttered with the need to faint, entirely incapacitated as he lowered his mouth to hers.

 

Their lips met.

 

Her heartbeat shorted as a sharp bolt of electricity zipped up her spine. It was involuntary—the way she arched in shock against him, her head tipping back to give him better purchase.

 

That jolt awoke every nerve ending and they hummed at attention like well-trained pets. _Like she was attuned to him_. Locked in her head, Rey let herself scream. His tongue was hot and wet as it plundered the cavity of her mouth, lips ravishing her with the most sensual moves, and _she!_ \- she _didn’t fight_ , her mouth opened against her will as she allowed the kiss.

 

Rey moaned in real confusion as her body reacted all wrong. Languid pleasure spread through her bloodstream, and she felt her pussy throb in unsanctioned arousal as a surge of wetness dampened her panties.

 

Her whimper morphed into a muffled sob of dismay. _How was this happening?!_

 

He paused his assault, breaking their contact to hum in pleasure - a cocky, triumphant growl. Thus released, she lowered her head and panted for air, one hand rising between them to press unsteady fingers into her temple. She stared down at the strip of white tee shirt peeking from the dark leather of his jacket, seeing nothing as she clawed desperately at her departing sanity.

 

He chuckled in amusement, well aware of the effect his touch was having.

 

It was that mocking laugh that galvanized her, breathing fiery life into her frozen limbs. When he allowed just a fraction of space between them, she summoned every ounce of courage and took a wild chance.

 

Utilizing the moves from that long-ago self-defense class, she drove her knee up between his legs as hard as she could, hitting him squarely in the balls. Success was sweet as the air left him in a whoosh and he doubled over, cupping his crotch. His jaw lined up beautifully to catch the quick swing of her elbow, and her boot descended with a furious stomp on the top of his foot. Then she was pivoting lightning-fast, dashing away from him with all of her fright as jet fuel.

 

She didn’t look back as she fled through the surreal scene, darting between bodies frozen in whatever action they'd been in the middle of.

 

His voice cracked like a whip behind her, causing her to crash into a club goer, the impact sending the stiff body toppling to the floor.

 

“Yesssss, _run._  Make me work for it.”

 

His implied promise of capture had her doubling her efforts, fleeing in concerted panic. There was no destination, anywhere was good. Anywhere, so long as it was away from him, away from that voice, those eyes, _that logic-defying kiss_ and the fucked-up effect it had on her.

 

She careened through the crowd, bouncing off of frozen people, humans who had not moments ago been alive, enjoying a Saturday night out.

 

 _Mannequins_ , her mind blubbered, desperately trying to cope with the insanity. They crowded the floor, effectively hindering any direct escape, much as they would have in a world where the laws of physics and logic still applied.

 

Risking a backward glance, she keened like a wounded thing.

 

 _He followed_. 

 

A bar materialized and she darted under the counter flap, searching for something, anything she could use as a weapon. Short-lived relief lit through her as she spotted a paring knife near a bowl of cut limes, turning in time to see him saunter up to the bar opposite her, cocky and self-assured. She brandished the knife with hands that shook, baring her teeth like a cornered cat as she flattened herself against the shelves of liquor.

 

“You look like a tall drink of water,” he purred, “and _I’m thirsty_.”

 

His eyes shone red for a moment, flashing at her like discs of brimstone.

 

“What the living _fuck_ are you?” she hissed.

 

His debonaire smile had no soul; he looked at her with the flat, hungry appraisal of a reptile regarding its next meal.

 

Without freeing her from his bottomless stare, he delicately lifted a lit cigarette from the fingers of a girl frozen next to him. Lowering his head, he brought it to his lips for a drag. The cherry glowed, casting a hellish tint to his eyes where they narrowed at her. The smoke poured from his lips like a sluggish river, lending an ominous haze to the space between them.

 

His words were phantoms parting the listless layers of smoke. “I am your reckoning, Rey,” he growled in that smooth, metallic voice. “You drew my eye, and now I need a taste…”

 

“But I-I don’t understand,” she managed, struggling to hold it together and not break down right then and there.

 

“It’s not _for you_ to understand, mortal girl,” he breathed, cocking his head as he casually snuffed the cigarette out on the back of its owner's hand.

 

The stench of burnt flesh spread, and Rey’s face crumpled as she choked on a sob, shaking her head in horrified denial.

 

A slow smile spread over his face and he blinked at her very deliberately, as if they were flirting.

 

The smile faded as quickly as it had come, replaced by _something else_. Her eyes widened as he vaulted over the bar with fluid ease, landing directly in front of her.

 

Without a moment’s pause, she plunged the knife as deep into his chest as she could, crying out in disgust as she felt it hit a bone.

 

Time held for a moment, his face motionless, and in that pause, she allowed herself the smallest flicker of hope…

 

She knew she was proper fucked when his eyes flared to hellish red, an evil smirk crossing his lips as he began to lean into the blade, his weight causing her to tremble even more wildly than before.

 

Her hands fell limply to her sides as her head shook in faint disbelief, moving away from him as one dazed. The hilt of the blade protruded sickeningly from the expanse of his chest, and she watched the stain of his blood spreading around it like a visceral cloud of ink.

 

“Please,” was all she managed, her whisper cut off as she was seized and tossed into the air like a doll.

 

He was strategic, using the side of her body to clear all glassware as he flipped her onto the bar.

 

She blinked in shock, too winded by the hard landing to register events as he leaped up to straddle her. With a sharp yank, he tugged the knife from his breast. It made a sickening squelch, leaving a ragged tear in the white cotton of his shirt.

 

“ _Don’t_ do that again,” he warned, shooting her a scathing look as he brandished the blade. It glittered red in the dimness and he brought it to his lips, giving its flat a long, obscene lick front and back.

 

She wanted to cry but couldn't, swallowing as the knife flashed in his hands, suddenly between her breasts. Her breath came in terrorized puffs as it slipped beneath her clothes, sawing at the fabric violently.

 

Her boots were torn from her next, followed by her cargos which he yanked roughly from her legs. When his furious assault was finished, she lay before him in nothing but her panties and the tattered remains of her bra and favorite Death Star t-shirt.

 

He gazed down at her, his stare avid as he drank in the sight of feminine curves revealed against the dark wood of the bar.

 

Rey slid one arm protectively over her breasts, the other over her hips as she shrank before him in abject misery. He allowed it, seeming to relish her pathetic attempts to shield herself from his gaze.

 

She could hear the mild amusement in his voice as he spoke.

 

“So miserable…” he remarked, searching her face with smoky eyes, reading her emotions like printed script. “You think you’re going to hate every second of this, don’t you…”

 

She grew still as the statues around her, unbreathing as he lowered his mouth to her ear. His breath was a warm feather against her skin.

 

“My poor baby,” he crooned, sounding deceptively sympathetic before reverting back to true form.

 

“You’re gonna cry when I fuck you. Only not how you think…”

 

* * *

 

* * *

Couldn't resist a mention of that GAP campaign spread. Y U M. For those unaware, feast your eyes on the hotness that is:

 

 

 

**Glossary**

SoDo: The district south of downtown Seattle, mainly industrial.


	2. The Devil Was, And Always Will Be, A Gentleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The altered reality of Rey’s nightmare unfolds as she contends with the unwanted attentions of a powerful demon.
> 
> His intrigue with her heightens when she gives him a taste of her mettle.

 

Songspiration: [_Where Is Everybody,_](https://youtu.be/Q7eAdBg6Z38) Nine Inch Nails

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She lay against the tacky wood of the bar as he lowered himself, caging her like he had earlier up against the wall. Only now, she was naked but for the hipster panties she wore, and the feeling of exposure was unbearable.

 

A trilling cry wrenched from her lips.

 

The lament rang through the stillness, and she was shocked for a second that such an animalistic sound could come from her. _.._ and really, that’s all she was—an animal caught as his face drew close, staring her down. His eyes were hungry as he basked in her misery, savoring it like a cat in a sunlit window.

 

She cringed as his large thumb brushed her hair from her brow, gentle as the tip of his tongue snaked out to trace the track of a tear on her cheek. _Toying with her_. She closed her eyes, unable to watch.

 

“Shhh--” he crooned, breath feathering over her jaw. “You’re in denial.”

 

His concerned tone was but another form of torment. He dispensed false comforts like a consummate abuser, cruelly painting her a damsel in distress and he, her savior.

 

_Fucking monster._

 

She felt the tender kiss he pressed near her lips. Then another. A whimper slipped out and she turned her face away, resolute as she called his bluff. Her breathing sped as she felt his energy change, carrying her on a fresh wave of panic.

 

“Hell is right around the corner, angel. Come. I’ll _show_ you...”

 

His teeth found her throat and the false lull was over.

 

Enormous hands slid under the globes of her ass, yanking her hips from the bar and down into his lap. She let out a strangled squeal as she was descended upon, her own petite form eclipsed by his sheer size.

 

All of her fight reignited and she beat at the breadth of his shoulders, scratching and rending as she was ravaged in turn. Her fury began to pale in the wake of his violence as he took great mouthfuls of her, scraping sharp teeth over swiftly bruising skin.

 

He _ate_ at her as one starved, growling as he ground an obscenely large bulge into her sex. She latched onto the pain of his bites, clinging to discomfort for the sake of her sanity as she fought the perverse pleasure that had begun to radiate from his lips, from the massive, hardening cock pressed between her legs.

 

Her mind tripped over itself at the sheer wrongness and she moaned in misery.

 

_How the *fuck* was any of this feeling good?!?_

 

The throbbing only worsened, and she felt the telltale slickness seep through her folds, heightening her sensitivity. She floundered in distress—a sinking ship on an oil-dark sea—and she clung to it as reality dawned—razor-edged and ugly as sin. _She wanted this_.

 

She cried out, venting the violation as she shook her head, denying him, denying her bewitched body, denying this warped new reality she found herself deposited in.

 

“No!  Please, _no_!” she shrieked, her struggles weakening as she felt herself caving, the pain dwindling as pleasure swamped her writhing body.

 

“Stop…” she faltered, feeling her hips twitch, her body hungry to ride the steady thrust of his dick.

 

“ _Please…”_ Her voice had grown small, childlike.

 

He only laughed softly against her throat, grinding harder, making her back skid on the sticky bar.

 

His hands caressed her breasts, kneading them, thumbs tracking over dusky nipples that were already hard.

 

Sparks of delight mapped her nerve endings, following the path of his fingers, and Rey felt her remaining fight capsize. She gasped and he seized the opportunity, capturing her open lips in a firm kiss, tongue sweeping in to taste her relentlessly. Her groan vibrated through his mouth, pleasure lighting through her to trigger another gush of wetness between her nether lips.

 

_He was going to fuck her. Right here, atop a bar. Before a host of people, frozen or not._

 

Her brain galvanized, fighting through the seductive haze.

 

_She couldn’t betray herself this way--couldn’t fucking give in so easily, goddamnit!_

 

Even as the surface closed over her head, she fought her way back up for one final breath of defiance. Her jaw tensed, closing to bite with every remaining ounce of strength.

 

His hand was in her hair instantly, tightening into a vicious fist and yanking her away even as he reared back.

 

The snap of her teeth rang through the silence, jarring the bones of her cheeks.

 

Her eyes had been instinctively squeezed tight as she bit down. They now flew open to find him staring down with a grim smirk on his flushed lips.

 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tsked, shaking his head disapprovingly. He lowered his face to hover inches from hers.

 

“If you bite me, I’ll bite back,” he promised ominously. His eyes darkened as his lips peeled back, revealing a white set of normal-looking teeth.

 

Her snort of derision died stillborn as, before her very eyes, his canines elongated into dreadfully long, curved fangs, like those of a baboon. She choked on her own scream, blinking furiously in disbelief as she tried to unsee the horror that even now was reverting back to normal.

 

Shock was a paralytic. Her eyes unfocused and she went slack in his hold.

 

“Oh _God_ ,” she mumbled, her voice cracking. “Oh God, _please_. This can’t be happening...please _no_. Oh, please _no_ ,” Her words trailed off in a fervent whisper.

 

She felt him sit up, those wretchedly large hands sliding down to pause over her thighs. Against her will, she refocused to see-- _him, it, whatever the fuck he was_ \--staring down at her with subdued pleasure, swaying slightly like a charmed cobra.

 

“You may call to _Him_ all you like,” he intoned, eyes glowing with interest. “To hear you do so would give me great pleasure.”

 

She rolled her head limply aside, focusing on the rows of colorful bottles lining the backlit shelves, but there was no mercy in him. A hand shot out and seized her chin, forcing her to look at him.

 

“Only know. _He_ can’t save you from me,” he vowed, his smooth, metallic voice gaining a hard edge.

 

His rough grasp of her chin snapped her out of her despair. She tore her head free of his hand, fixing him with teary-eyed fury. “If that’s how it is, at least get me a drink first,” she hissed.

 

Dark brows shot up in amused surprise, followed by a knowing smirk.

 

“Why, Rey,” he purred silkily, “am I driving you to drink?” He let out a delighted bark of laughter.

 

“This is so unlike you. Well, go on, then,” he urged, his face bemused. “Pick your poison.”

 

Her heart was pounding as she eyed the unfamiliar options, trying to think of the strongest spirit she was aware of. Her panicked stare landed on a lurid green bottle, and she recalled reading something about its contents being on the stringent side.

 

“Chartreuse,” she blurted out.

 

His eyebrow arched in recognition. “Elixir Vegetal de la Grande-Chartreuse...the _only_ lasting contribution of those pathetic, hypocritical, god-fearing Carthusians.”

 

His smile was magnanimous as he reached toward the glass shelves to the right.   

 

“A very good choice indeed,” he praised, staring unblinkingly at her as the summoned bottle floated over to land squarely in his palm. With that, he seized her wrist, pulling her abruptly up and into his lap.

 

She couldn’t stifle her gasp as his cock slotted into the cleft of her sex, applying pressure where she wanted it least. Her clit throbbed traitorously. _He planned this_. Summoning what pathetic vestiges of strength remained, she scowled, bridling at the intimate press of their loins.

 

It only made him hungrier, snaking an arm about her waist and pulling her bare chest flush with his, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Oh, are you…?” he broke off, a little smile on his lips as he lapped up the distress that rolled off her in waves.

 

She squirmed, hating the mock surprise in his tone, growing still when the movement made their contact even more arousing.

 

His hips tilted up, reminding her of everything she wished she could forget—the juicy mess of her sex notwithstanding.

 

“Is that wetness _...you_?”   

 

She shuddered at the feel of him, his warm breath whispering over her neck as her pussy purred with sensation. Her hands pushed weakly at his shoulders, despondent as her body obeyed his call. She might have had more luck were he a marble statue.

 

He thrust lazily again, applying pressure that sent chills up her spine. His voice was sensuous and intoxicating, flooding her mind with sacrilegious thoughts.

 

“That’s your body begging for some punishment,” he murmured, biting his full lower lip as he punctuated his assertion with another thrust. “And it shall be delivered. But as you will see, I am a slave to my honor and have first promised you that drink. Allow me to show off my gentlemanly side.”

 

He pulled back, offering her a shot glass filled with the potent green liqueur. She snatched it from his fingers, spilling a little as she knocked it back. The burn hit her and she grimaced, entirely unused to taking shots. Her lips parted, huffing out the alcohol fumes as immediate warmth spread through her belly.

 

“More,” she demanded, shivering at the instant ache of intoxication that spread through her muscles.

 

He cocked his head, withholding the bottle with a sly look. “What will you give me in return?”

 

“I, I’ll—“ she paused, at a loss for anything she’d willingly give him. Her brows knitted together, suddenly outraged as she focused on his monstrously handsome face.

 

“What would you have that you won’t take anyway?” she demanded venomously.  

 

He was completely unruffled. “Something given willingly,” he hedged, “it needn’t be anything serious...something small perhaps—a kiss, or personal belonging…” 

 

She didn’t know if it was the alcohol or his attempt at contrition that did it, but all at once, a reckless fury possessed her. “How in the name of all that is holy am I sitting here bargaining with you—fucking SATAN or something for all I know!” she thundered, her voice spiraling higher. “If you’re gonna fuck up my life by freezing time and--and hunt and molest me like a fucking _animal_ , the LEAST you can bloody do is GET ME DRUNK!”

 

Darkness gathered around his face, turning her fire to ice in an instant. With a sinister smile that contained no mirth, he pressed a hard finger into her sternum, pushing her back down with frightening ease to lie flat on the bar.

 

His quiet tone was utterly unnerving. “Very well.”

 

In a flash, he flipped the shot glass to sit between her breasts. He poured into it, raising the bottle with a flourish at the end. The liquor splashed her skin, translucent green rivulets dripping down the side of a breast, making her gasp.

 

“You did that on purpose,” she accused weakly.

 

“What makes you think so?” he shot, grasping the hem of his shirt and smoothly pulling it over his head to reveal a swath of tattooed muscular perfection. Her eyes widened. Tilting his head back, he stared down at her with a cold, appraising look, taking her measure of him.

 

Her heart plummetted as she battled a wave of instant attraction. His physique was _fucking deadly_. The inked designs that she’d glimpsed over his collar covered his shoulders and arms. They weren’t blatantly disturbing--there were no flames or reapers or skulls, but somehow, the interwoven arcane symbols were worse.

 

She swallowed, trying not to look too closely, and then it hit her— _no puncture wound._ There was nothing to indicate he’d very recently had a paring knife protruding from the slab of his chest; no blood, no torn flesh or gaping hole.

 

Her attention was redirected by the sight of muscles flexing hypnotically as he crawled forward and reached a hand behind her neck. Gently he pulled her head forward as he brought the shot glass to her lips and tipped it back.

 

She sputtered, struggling to swallow the potent alcohol lying down. When she’d taken all of it, he slammed the emptied glass upside down next to her head, enjoying her flinch. Then, he seized her ribcage in both massive hands, yanking her into an arch.

 

“Now it’s _my turn_. Give me a taste, little girl.”

 

He lowered his mouth to her skin, tracing the tracks of the sticky liquor with his tongue.

 

Her nails scraped at the wood of the bar as tiny sounds of distress slipped free of her pressed lips.

 

With intent that left no doubt as to his designs, he finished each lingering stroke with a pass over a puckered nipple. Her chest heaved as she endured it, trying valiantly not to give him the satisfaction of her cries.

 

When he’d licked her clean, he latched onto her nipple, sucking as much of her sensitive flesh as he could into his generous mouth.

 

Her moan was his reward, and she thrashed miserably. The pleasure that radiated from his mouth was impossible.

 

Unable to stand the implication of it all, her hands found his shoulders and she pushed, bracing against him in an attempt to wriggle up the bar and out of his grasp.

 

She was surprised when he didn’t yank her back down, and as his face drew level with her hips, she saw why.

 

His head was down, intent as he stared at her pussy calculatingly.

 

She berated herself for a fool as she realized her mistake.

 

He glanced up with a cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk on those sinful lips.

 

Her muscles tensed to fly but he was one step ahead, one massive palm flying up to cover her navel, pressing her into place.

 

“Always trying to leave before the party even starts,” he scolded. “We’re gonna have to break you of that bad habit of yours.”

 

Holding her down, he lowered his face to her sex, nuzzling the soaked spot on her panties and taking a leisurely inhale of her scent. He exhaled through his mouth, flooding her oversensitive pussy with heat.

 

“Mmmmm, you haven’t been fucked in a good long while, have you?” he mused, speaking directly against the wet, polka-dotted cotton that shielded her.

 

Rey whimpered as the vibration of his words triggered several quick darts of pleasure, her cunt clenching involuntarily. She tried to press her thighs together, but his wide chest was immovable.

 

Her desperation grew as his fingers stroked along the elastic at her groin, hooking under the edge to draw her panties aside.

 

In a blind panic, she reached out her hand, spastically patting along the edge of the bar to close around a cylindrical object.

 

So busy was he with unveiling her that he didn’t notice she’d gone very still.

 

“These panties are darling, by the way,” he observed conversationally, as if they were just a couple having a civilized chat. “There’s something about polka-dots on a grown woman that is just, _mmmm_ -”

 

He broke off, looking up in surprise as all of her muscles tensed.

 

 _Too late_.

 

Her swing was good, catching him square in the temple. His head whipped aside with the impact as the bottle exploded in a shower of glass and gin.

 

Taken utterly by surprise, he released his grip on her and she slipped free, vaulting clumsily down and racing between frozen clubgoers for the door.

 

Careening into rock-hard bodies that tumbled stiffly to the floor, she heard an ominous snarl behind her, its sound giving her extra speed.

 

Her bare feet flew over the dirty ground, nimble and quick, and she let out a sob as the exit sign came into view. She didn’t care if she was naked but for her panties, didn’t care that it was thirty-six degrees and raining outside--just please, please, _please_ let her make it through!

 

She dared to hope as she closed in on freedom. _So close!_

 

Twenty feet. Then ten. Five.

 

Tears blurred her vision as her hands reached out to hit the bar that would release her.

 

She heard it just as her palms hit the cold metal-- _that_ warning sound as her ability to move freely was abruptly stolen. Her heart staggered like an animal shot.

 

He’d stopped her mid-sprint, frozen like all the club around her.

 

She couldn’t move, not even a twitch, but she could _think_ , and it had to be the ninth ring of hell. Unable to turn or see anything other than what was in front of her, she railed internally, panic a living creature that scurried about, eating her from the inside.

 

His voice was the most terrible thing she’d ever heard—the ominous grate of a blade passing over a whetstone.

 

“ _Reyyyy_. You were about to have it so good, baby girl. I was going to show you my sweet side...”

 

Her body was spun around to face him, still completely immobile.

 

He stood twenty feet away, just watching her with eyes that flashed carmine-red. The shadowy outline of dark, feathered wings hung over his shoulders, and her mind wailed in silence.

 

He shook his head with disappointment.

 

“But _you_ are _determined_ to make things hard for yourself--” he crooked an ominous finger in her direction.

 

An invisible string pulled her forward, stopping her in a kneeling position suspended in the air before him. He lifted her head so that she could see his face, look up into those hellish eyes and shiver.

 

“My pet name for you was too weak…‘angel’ just doesn’t fit, now does it,” he mused to himself.

 

She could do nothing as he gazed down at her, ebony hair dripping gin onto her upturned face.

 

Reaching up, he stroked her cheek, angling for her lips and pushing a finger into her immobilized mouth.

 

She could only dream of biting as he rubbed along her gums, forcing her teeth apart to push lightly at a canine, testing its sharpness.

 

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Vixen,” he pronounced, an odd mix of accusation and awe in his voice.

 

That dreadful hand continued its torment, tracing fingers in a downward path, passing collarbone and sternum to curl lazily about a petite breast.

 

Her mind sobbed its misery but all she could do was stare. Surely this was the hell described by victims of failed anesthesia; the ability to think and process things around you, but no way to make them register.

 

He cocked his head. “With all of that insolence, I’m starting to think it wasn’t only your pet name I got wrong.” His hand, once gentle, now delivered a stinging slap to the underside of her breast. “I’m starting to think _gentle_ isn’t your preference, Rey…”

 

Her eyes were huge, muscles trembling as she stared beseechingly up at him, unable to react. Salty tears mingled with the juniper-scented drops that ran down her cheeks as she endured an agony of eternity in the span of each second.

 

His unyielding gaze softened into something even scarier. _Fondness_. “What are you trying to do? he asked softly, “give me the night of my life?”

 

Rey felt all remaining hope exit in a soft sigh, passing from her as a soul departs a body.

 

Now he smiled, wicked as he bent to scoop her up, tossing her decisively over one strong shoulder.

 

Her body was limber and cooperative, molding itself to him and swaying limply as he walked them back into the nightmarishly quiet warehouse, casually patting the back of her thigh. He strolled smoothly between the club-goers, their faces frozen in various expressions, and Rey thought she might faint when she realized where he was going.

 

Ascending the stairs, he brought her onstage, weaving through dangling chains with their various restraints.

 

He stopped before a contraption that looked like an angled sawhorse and considered it for an endless moment.

 

A little of her died inside as she was lowered into it, still unable to resist as he arranged her limbs methodically against its upholstered black leather.

 

It positioned her in a jockey’s pose--bent over in a loose kneel with padded rests that braced her knees and forearms. These were equipped with buckled straps that he nimbly locked around her wrists and ankles.

 

When she was caught to his liking, he crouched down where she could see his face.

 

His voice was close to reproachful.

 

“I told you earlier you were in for some punishment, but my, oh _my_. I didn’t know what a bad little girl I had on my hands...didn’t know we’d have to take it _here_.”

 

Dread percolated in her belly, a cruel drip of fear for one without the ability to speak or even move. He stroked her head like he would a beloved pet, letting his gaze wander the length of her restrained body and back up to pin her soul.

 

His eyes blackened, danger thickening about him like smoke.

 

“I’m gonna blur the lines, Rey,” he warned, his voice full of dark promise. “You won’t know right from wrong...pleasure from pain. I’m gonna make hell feel like heaven...”

 

His smile was a weapon, sharp and piercing. “Shall we begin…?”

  
  
  


 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love booze. In other news, the Carthusian order of cloistered monks was founded in 1084 – one of the oldest religious orders in Christianity. They’re the reason we get to enjoy the herbal delight that is Chartreuse, and we *heart* them for it. 
> 
> Boozy background: In 1605, the monks received an ancient manuscript from an “Elixir” soon to be nicknamed “Elixir of Long Life”. This manuscript was probably the work of a 16th-century alchemist with a great knowledge of herbs and the skill to blend, infuse, macerate the 130 of them to form a perfectly balanced tonic. 
> 
> The original recipe was pretty wicked biz. Referred to as “the liqueur of health,” it was basically herb-infused wine alcohol – 69% by volume, 138 proof. I’m willing to bet you’d land a visit with god if you drank too much of this stuff…
> 
> So tasty was it that it was often used as a beverage rather than a medicine (fancy that!). Recognizing this, the monks, in 1764, adapted the elixir recipe to make a milder beverage which we know today as Green Chartreuse» – 55% alcohol, 110 proof. 
> 
> A good choice if one is being ravaged by hellspawn and needs a timely coping mechanism.


	3. Take It There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS is the fateful moment, the cataclysmic downfall that shapes Rey's destiny. The trajectory of her days is herein decided, in all its sexy, violent, sinful glory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music and art are often the catalysts for my fic, and if you're digging this so far, HIT UP THE SONG REC LISTED BELOW!!! Like, play it softly as you read!! It was the planted seed that got me envisioning the plot and certainly the heavy-handed smut. Tricky has _such_ a devious, suggestive voice. Seriously. He could read legal disclaimers and all that would register is _sexxxxxxx..._
> 
> The title has obvious ties to the events of the story, but the meaning of it is a personal reminder, a mantra to repeat when my fingers pause on the keyboard and I want to go soft...my own little demon, sitting on my shoulder going, "ah, ah, ah!--no wavering bish...it's downward march..."
> 
>  

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Songspiration: ["Take It there,"](https://youtu.be/J2NquRG_7JI) Massive Attack

 

  

* * *

 

He snapped his fingers, and Rey’s autonomy returned...along with the rest of the club.

 

Her head whipped up to stare in horror as her heart beat out of her chest. The chair to which she was strapped was angled so that she faced the crowd, making it easy to pan over the sea of dancers. The DJ continued his set right where he’d left off and the dance floor writhed, oblivious to anything out of the ordinary. Toxic dread flooded her bloodstream as her vision broke into dots. No one was the wiser.

 

Her head dropped to the padded bench, eyes squeezing closed as she gave up trying to cope.

 

Her mind howled at the unfairness of it. _Noooooooo!!_

 

She heard a short-lived uproar at the bar as broken glass was discovered, and the shrill cry of what had to be the girl with the cigarette burn. Just like Rey, her agony went unnoticed--swallowed by the deafening pound of bass and reanimated plumes of fog. The club scene continued as if nothing untoward had happened, people blissfully unaware of the atrocities that had occurred not moments before.

 

In a last-ditch attempt to do something, _anything_ to save herself, Rey called out to the dancers closest to the stage. It wasn’t a stretch to infuse the terror she felt into her expression, begging frantically for help, but her words were drowned by the merciless rhythm. Those that made eye contact met her panicked expression with conspiratory smiles.

 

Understanding sank into her mind like a poisoned dart as she pictured what the crowd was seeing: he--with his raven-dark hair and tattooed skin, stalking around her like a carnivore with the scent of blood--and she, staked down like a sacrifice, undressed and whimpering like the seasoned submissive of a BDSM performance group…

 

Her eyes slipped closed and her breath departed.

 

 _They thought...they thought that she, that *they* were there to demonstrate_ …

 

A numbness swept over her, aborted instantly by the first stinging spank to her buttock.

 

Rey yelped in shock, her eyes wide. His broad palm connected with the opposite cheek in a crisp, resonating clap. He smacked her again, square in the middle, jolting her cunt. She felt a sinking sensation in her gut as she responded to his administrations, her skin flushing with blood. These were not the light, childish spankings of youth. They were a much darker breed--merciless, precise connections designed to elicit compliance...and _something else._   

 

Again. And _again_.

 

The impact vibrated through her most sensitive areas, heightening the illegitimate thrill in her core.

 

Biting her lip, she tried to muffle the cries that threatened to tear free with each brutal crack of his palm. She schooled her face into an expression of defiance, determined not to give him _anything_.

 

He bent low over her, his ebony hair dripping boozy, juniper-scented tears up her back.

 

She moaned softly, feeling that massive dick press up against her panties, driving home how indecently wet she was.

 

“How does that feel?” he asked solicitously. “Am I being too gentle, hmm?”

 

He pressed cloudlike lips against her skin, kissing her shoulder in worship, playing the part of a dedicated Dom. It was pathetic, but she struggled anyway, baring her teeth at him as best she could from her position.

 

“Fuck. You.” she seethed, biting off each word.

 

“I think I will,” he drawled, sliding his body from hers as he straightened again.

 

She jumped as he replaced his dick with a hand, engulfing her pussy and rubbing up and down. “But first, this-- _barrier_ \--is a problem,” he said, carefully watching her profile. “Besides,” he added, staring at her sex with an appraising smile, “you’ve made a _terrible mess_ , little girl.”

 

The warmth of his body departed, and there was a pause as she waited in agonized fear of the next debasement...her body jerked against the restraints as her soaked panties were ripped off, leaving her fully nude and incredibly vulnerable.

 

Rey heard some asshole yell an approving, “Fuck yeah!” from the crowd, the majority of which had paused whatever they were doing to watch the heated interaction on stage. She pressed her forehead to the padded bench, fighting back tears. _How can this be really happening? What in the actual *fuck* have I done to deserve this?!_

 

She heard him hum with pleasure, soaking up her distress as he brushed light strokes over her buttocks, circling...circling, _smack!_ Again, on the opposite side, stroking her gently, _so_ terribly gentle, followed by the delivery of a ringing slap.

 

He took his time with her, alternating between shows of tenderness and discipline. Pitching his deep voice so that only she could hear him, he proceeded to torment her further.

 

“Do you have any idea how enticing you are, hmmm?” he murmured, his palm circling like a shark.

 

“The flush of your skin...so _red_.” His voice lingered on the word, idolizing it as he lifted her chin so that she faced the ceiling, her neck arched vulnerably.

 

“Your tears. _Devastating_ ,” he whispered, low and sincere.

 

“How am I supposed to stop when you’re so perfect, so addicting?” he asked, smiling indulgently as he released her, gently lowering her head to its leather-covered pillow, stroking it lovingly before returning to his work at her backside.

 

She shuddered in response, too much of her fight removed to think of a comeback.

 

 _Smack!_ She clenched her teeth on a whine that threatened to escape. It was impossible to remain stoic. With each impact against her abused, over-stimulated flesh, her lofty ideals crumbled a bit more--fanged silence becoming soft whimpers, soft whimpers giving way to desperate whines, desperation escalating to full-throated cries.

 

He praised her for it, whispering soft encouragement, bidding her to let go, telling her how beautiful she looked.

 

It was working.

 

Even now, she could feel a divine relaxation spreading through her limbs, warm and soothing. She’d begun to sync her breathing in anticipation of each impact. A light sheen of sweat covered her body, and she could feel the hair that had slipped free of her ponytail clinging to her forehead.

 

Rey was momentarily grateful for the placement of the bench, angling her ass toward the back wall. At the very least, her greatest shame was bared to him alone, though the knowledge of his prime view crippled her.

 

Arousal slicked her spread thighs, dripping down the black leather unchecked.

 

He had paused with his merciless spankings, and she panted in the stillness, her heart pounding. Something stroked her drenched, splayed-open sex, and she moaned in agony.

 

“With all that fight in you, I knew you’d like it rough,” he said casually, bringing his finger level with her eyes so that she couldn’t help but see how it ran with her juices.

 

He made a show of it, staring her down with hooded eyes as his tongue stroked up his index finger.

 

All smugness faded as his eyes widened in shock.

 

It was with a morbid fascination that she watched understanding dawn, his eyes deepening to primordial black, endless and hungry as her secret was revealed...

 

“A _virgin…_?” he asked, awestruck.

 

She swallowed fearfully. _He could tell...by the taste of her?_ Rey tucked her down in defeat.

 

He was quiet for a dreadfully long time, just watching with those fathomless eyes...

 

“Oh baby girl, you _waited…_ ” he praised reverently.

 

His delighted laugh sent a phantom shiver running the length of her exposed body. “I’m going to ruin you for all who come after,” he said gleefully. “You’ll never have it so good. Mortal men can’t compare with what I can do to you, what I can make you feel…”

 

She shook her head weakly, trying to deny his words. Willing them to be false.

 

A whisper of skin, air moving over her and something warm stroked up her slit, gathering the clear juices that dripped from her like tears. She made a strangled noise, frantic as she looked back to see what he was doing.

 

He was crouched behind her, his dark head of hair visible above the spread rounds of her bottom. “Mmh, Rey,” he groaned, “you’re so fucking _pure_.”

 

His breath feathered over that most sensitive place, causing her to panic as she cried out in fear. “No! Please! D-don’t!”  

 

“Shhh. Hush now. Let me show you,” he said, soothing her like he would a skittish animal.

 

She whimpered as his hands closed around the front of her thighs, bracing for the feeling. He muttered something about _fucking perfect_ and pressed his mouth over her quivering cunt. He engulfed all of it with ease and sucked hard.  

 

The pleasure was so startling, she nearly screamed, drowning in sensation as her back arched hard toward his mouth, instinctively giving him a better angle. All of those spankings and she was flushed to the brink, teetering on the edge of orgasm.

 

His tongue... _fuck!_ It was unlike anything, unspeakably good, his mouth sliding over her so soft and hot. Unable to contain her emotion, she gave it voice, her cries ringing out into the hazy air.

 

All of the faces in the crowd disappeared, leaving only her body and that heavenly thing he was doing to it. Her lips fell open, face the picture of shock as she came hard, hands balled into fists as she pulled at her bindings. The restraints only made it stronger and she faltered, curling her head against the padded bench as she wept through the scintillating pleasure that radiated from her core. She heard her voice whispering brokenly, begging him _please_ , _please, please_ , all dignity abandoned.

 

He had hummed a low, vibrating purr into her flesh the whole time, and now he lapped up the aftermath with fastidious, discriminating strokes that made her twitch violently.

 

All at once, the tension in her muscles released, like a machine powering down. Her body trembled as a towering shame rushed in with the return of reality. The awareness that she’d been thoroughly debased before hundreds of strangers was almost too much to bear.

 

In a moment of pure masochism, she looked up, facing the audience through lashes spiked with tears.

 

She could never have prepared for what she saw.

 

Her lips parted as she breathed through the moment, panning the crowd in shock. Their eyes were glazed and warm as they stared, a trend that was repeated in every countenance. Raw lust reflected back at her, and something else, something completely unexpected...wistful adoration.

 

She scanned their upturned faces but couldn’t find a sneer or smirk to speak of. Her shame was forgotten as she tried to process it. It was utterly surreal having the potent floodlight of such distilled human emotion turned on her.

 

She was at a loss for how to describe it. It was almost…

 

“Godlike?” he supplied, his gravelly voice pouring over her skin like liquid metal.

 

Her head turned to see him standing behind her, those large fingers deftly undoing the zipper of his black jeans. The sight unleashed a tidal wave of terror, her vision greying at the edges at the thought of being fucked before a crowded room of clubgoers.

 

“Please,” she croaked, brows furrowing together pleadingly.

 

Then again, stronger. “ _Please!_  Please, don’t. Not like this,” she begged, keeping her eyes riveted on his, trying to will his compliance with the scale of her desperation. “Not in front of all these people.” Her voice cracked. “Please--I’ll--I’ll do _anything. Anything you want_.”

 

He just smirked, pants sliding down to reveal rock-solid thighs and a punishingly massive dick that was barely contained by the black briefs he wore.

 

She fought the static that threatened her vision as he stalked alongside her, pausing with his crotch level with her head. With infinite purpose. Ever-cruel as he gave her an up-close-and-personal-view with her fate.

 

“My poor little vixen,” he murmured, brushing the damp strands from her forehead. “You had the chance to bargain with me earlier, and now...well. Now you’re not in exactly the best position to negotiate, are you.”  It really was more of a taunt than a question, effectively abolishing what common sense remained her.

 

He sank down to better meet her teary eyes, one finger stroking the angle of her cheekbone.

 

“So beautiful in distress,” he mused, his eyes flashing like stoplights before returning to fathomless black. “What can you offer me that would exceed the delight of impaling your virgin flesh before this sea of worshipers?”

 

His voice was low and intimate, and she shivered miserably, casting about in her mind for something, anything to offer him that might spare her further atrocity.

 

She met his intent stare with her weak one. “What is your name,” she asked breathlessly.

 

His sable brows inched up. “Good start,” he murmured, appraising her. “I am Kylo, Archfiend of the Hellcniht of Ren,” he paused, that smirk she’d come to know returning. “But from you, ‘Master,’ or ‘Daddy’ could also serve.”

 

Rey was all business--his jabs flying under the radar in her single-minded pursuit to avoid public defilement at the hands of some sort of demon hellspawn.

 

“Kylo, please. Don’t”--she met his eyes, struggling with her appeal, “Don’t do it like this.”

 

He waited, giving her time to decide how low she wanted to go, savoring her descent.

 

Her breathing was shallow as the damning words tumbled forth again. “I’ll do anything.”

 

He cocked his head at her, appearing interested. “ _Anything_ , you say?”

 

She nodded frantically, biting her lip as she stared back at him, feeling some part of herself float away.

 

His eyes were magnetic, the darkness in them swirling, pulling her in. His voice was soft, so soft as he very clearly spoke the words. “Bind yourself to me, and I’ll honor your request.”

 

“Prove it,” she blurted unthinkingly.

 

Without looking away, he pointed toward the crowd with two fingers, twitching them subtly down. As one, every person in sight slumped to the floor bonelessly.

 

Rey felt a softening about her ankles and wrists as her restraints slipped loose, and she sat up slowly, oblivious of her nakedness as she stared around at the sea of bodies that littered the floor. The silence rang deafeningly in her ears once more, and she felt a floating disconnect from reality.

 

“You didn’t--they’re not--” she faltered, turning sharply to search his face as her voice became a squeaky whisper. “Are they _dead_?”

 

His amusement was clear. “Alas,” he drawled, “they yet live. I am entertaining the notion that you might actually keep your end of the bargain. For now, they merely sleep.”

 

There was no fight left as his hands closed around her biceps, making her feel no lighter than a child as he hauled her effortlessly up to wobble before him. No fight, but the mindless desire to flee remained, and her brows knit together with the effort it took not to follow her instincts and bolt.

 

 _Every time you’ve tried, you’ve failed,_ whispered an unpleasant little voice _._

 

She told it to shut up as she struggled to calm herself, trying not to think about what he had just done to her, willing herself to unfeel the slippery wetness between her nether lips.

 

Glancing down, her eyes passed over the people lying entangled on the floor, their bodies spotted with beams of colored light. A ghostly memory came to her; that of an illustration that had captured her imagination as a child: a castle where things had gone very wrong, the whole royal court lying wherever they’d fallen, victims of the enchantment that had claimed their young princess in her forgotten tower.

 

She blinked and the random thought departed with the swiftness of a darting swallow, returning her to the unreality that towered before her, all sleek, inked muscles and sinister intent.

 

“Now, it’s _your_ turn,” he said, his voice dripping with anticipation.

 

She rubbed at her wrists, glancing nervously up at him. “What do you need?” she asked, her voice a spooked warble.

 

“The smallest of things--a drop of your blood, given _willingly._ ”

 

A pang of premonition sounded through her mind, hollow and wordless.

 

She looked down as a flash of silver caught her eye, eyes widening as she beheld the dagger that had materialized in his grasp. Without thought, she traced its make appreciatively, her current plight momentarily forgotten as she drank in the weapon’s details.

 

Its blade was graceful in a wicked sort of way, forged with languid swirls that wafted through the metal like bands of drifting smoke. She stared at it, trying to recall if she’d ever seen a spearpoint dagger with quillons such as these. The crossguards were fanged like the jaws of a great serpent, and the scaled hilt terminated in a pommel of faceted red stone.

 

Rey stared at it, unable to keep a touch of covetousness from entering her heart. It looked ancient and had been crafted with a masters attention to detail.

 

He twirled it several times, lazily playing with the blade like a child with a particularly dangerous toy. His deft motions made the light wink from the snake's scales, dazzling her eyes and bringing it to life.

 

When it stopped, the point faced her expectantly.

 

He made no move, standing still and just watching her with his sable eyes. Waiting.

 

She felt oddly removed as she watched her hand reach slowly for the blade, parting air that felt thick and sluggish. Beads of silvery light danced along the razor edge, deceptively beautiful as they gathered at its sharp termination. The light reflected in her eyes as she stared, dazzled by how it winked at her, _beckoning_...

 

Her finger met the point in a feather-light touch. She gasped as the tip parted her skin with ease, recoiling instantly as she heard the rattling hiss of a snake. Pain bloomed through her finger and she flipped her hand over, examining the puncture that hurt far more than such a tiny wound should.  

 

So intent was she that she didn’t see him repeat the motion, didn’t see it until his hand was extended, index finger bleeding freely in a mirror of her own.

 

She stared blankly at his hand—offered in a rendition of that age-old gesture of solidarity. Blood pooled into droplets at the tip of her finger, steady _drip, drip, dripping_ to spatter the floor with the rich, red essence of her body.  

 

His face was solemn, betraying nothing as he watched her hand reach out, bridging the distance between them.

 

Their fingertips met in a mingling of blood, and her lips parted in a sharp, instinctive gasp as all air left the room. She stared in sightless horror, her pupils expanding, eating the light until they were bottomless mirrors of his own.

 

_Pain. Not of her body, not of this earth._

 

Agony forked through her soul like lightning as she realized too late that she’d made a grievous error. At light speed, she launched from dismay to fright, landing somewhere far beyond frantic as she pulled at her hand, trying to sever their contact to no avail.

 

They were fused in an unbreakable bond.

 

She cried out in horror, yanking harder, struggling against the marble-like form of the demon she was soldered to, falling to her knees as the violation began in earnest now.

 

Rey arched violently, her head yanked backward by an invisible hand, baring her breast to the heavens. She caught a glimpse of his face through eyes slitted with pain, and she trembled at the triumph she saw there. Her body spasmed as a piece of her soul split asunder and was wrenched forth, passing through the mingling of their blood. A wordless lament spilled from her lips as she felt the missing piece of herself fill with his inky darkness.

 

All at once, she could _feel_ his nebulous elation as he claimed her for his own.

 

_My name is written. You are mine now, mortal girl._

 

The bond seared and she doubled over as she felt it cauterize, bowing before him as she was released to slip to the floor. Her hair hid her face as fat, salty drops dripped down to pool on the dented wood of the stage. She could feel him there, feel the black emptiness within and she shrank from it, her hopes of salvation dashed like a fallen nestling on a hot sidewalk.

 

It was done. Only one thing remained as he gathered her from the floor.

 

In a daze, she clung to him, seeking comfort in all the wrong places as he held her tight, cruel as he slow-danced her about in a half-circle.

 

She was docile, gazing at him brokenly through her veil of tears.

 

Tears of loss, tears of defeat, blurring his beautiful, unkind face.

 

His muscles flexed languidly beneath her fingers, bringing the inked symbols that decorated his skin to life as he leaned against the angled bench she’d been strapped to.

 

Her mind stumbled as powerful hands slid her thighs apart, pulling her atop him as he reclined. Only vaguely did his nakedness register through the cushion of dulled shock as she perceived the third limb that jutted massively between his legs. Between hers, now, as he lined her up, preparing to take what was his.

 

Amorphous voices whispered in her mind, sowing rapture and ruin in a guttural tongue not of this plain.

 

His spongy tip crushed her delicate folds before he pushed, slipping his dick into her untried opening.

 

Her stasis crumbled as her cunt was breached. She blinked furiously, her brows furrowing in distress at the unfamiliar feeling. The initial pinch was supplanted with a warmth that lapped at the hurt, washing it away with the insistence of an incoming tide.

 

He pumped shallowly, his eyes enrapt as he watched his head bob in and out. His voice was soothing as he crooned to her about how lovely and pure she was, slowly working at her, testing the vise of her body.

 

She could hear the wet sounds that accompanied his movements and her senses ignited, whipping the swarm of bees within her into a buzzing frenzy.

 

_Wasn’t this supposed to hurt?_

 

Looking up, his eyes glittered, a smile forming on his lips. _Do you want it to, my sweet?_

 

“No,” she whispered, unable to be anything but honest as she was held in place, her helplessness punctuated as his cock slipped ever deeper.  

 

He toyed with her, plying her mind with sacrilegious thoughts, narrowing his eyes as he savored her.

 

_Oh Rey, feel that. Your tight little pussy was made to take my dick. Such a good girl, waiting for me. I’m gonna reward you. Such delights you’ve never dreamed._

 

She moaned, high-pitched as she vented the build of her emotions.

 

His tongue flicked out, licking his upper lip hungrily. "You're MINE now, little girl, and I’m going to teach you. Night after night. You’re gonna drown in pleasure as you learn your place."

 

Her mouth fell open and she panted in fearful anticipation. She couldn’t think of his words or what they meant. Her body and mind were trapped in the _now_ , and _now_ commanded all of her.  

 

She whimpered, hands splaying and curling into fists against his tensed abs as he slid in further. Despite the splitting tightness of their fit, he felt _way too good_.

 

His deep voice whispered incantations, speaking in a tongue that sounded like seduction itself. It lulled her, and her taut muscles relaxed around the pillar of his cock.

 

She was full of him, so full with more still to take. Conflict electrified her mind as hot ecstasy lit outwards from where he impaled her.

 

When he bottomed out her mind blanked, every thought unmade by the completeness between her thighs. She knew what it meant and stared in glassy-eyed shock over his head. Receding in her mind’s eye, her lost virtue sparkled--something shiny and pure--eaten by the dark and lost forever.

 

The lengthy slither of his withdrawal roused her from the vague sense of mourning and she gasped--an extended intake of breath that released with a sharp cry as he thrust back in. Her inhibitions waned with each second they were joined, on the brink of a full eclipse.

 

His voice was blood in the water, scarlet unfurling sinuously through her mind. _The pleasure is the punishment, Rey._

 

Her head fell back as she caved, entirely overwhelmed.

 

Distantly she heard him chuckle darkly before his hips began rolling beneath her, pumping his massive shaft in and out with a heavy, wet slide. Her hands, once limp at her sides now flew to his waist, gripping him for stability.

 

His emotive groans corresponded with each thrust, resonating irresistibly through her mind, beckoning her full complicity.

 

She didn’t realize when she’d begun to answer him, her feminine cries coerced by the deep push in her womb. But somewhere along the way, she crossed the line, now serving them willingly. His pleasure bled into hers, and she succumbed to the otherworldly rapture that bloomed within her, toxic and addictive.

 

He fucked her slow, insistent, delivering his cock with measured strokes that caused her to arch gracefully for him. Her head lolled on her shoulders bonelessly, lips parted as she gasped for air, breasts thrust out in the most pleasing of offerings.

 

She was utter perfection right where she was, and he skipped the frenzied, brutal coupling he’d planned in favor of breaking her in leisurely, each gentle meet of their hips making it crystal clear that he had all the time in the world now.

 

His eyes were alive with the primal darkness that was his sanction, watching her carefully, gauging the depth of depravity he’d wrought in her. The warmth of her eyes was lost, eaten by blackness as she rode his thrusts, her fingers splayed over his stomach.

 

He knew she was his when those delicate hands slid down to grip his sides, nails imprinting as she gained the purchase she desired and began to fuck him back. His eyes fell closed in abject pleasure, growing still to appreciate the sensuous roll of her hips as she rode his cock. Her skin shone with exertion, nipples rock hard as she panted and cried with every downward plunge.

 

Rey’s mind was gone. Everything had come down to this. He raced through her veins like every indulgence she’d ever known, _all at once_. He hijacked every sense until there was only him and the way his dick filled her, so warm and hard and heavy. Her hands gripped his sides, kneading at him with feline pleasure. His tongue darted out, tempting her as he licked lips she longed to suck on, but she stayed in place, riding the magnificent cock that was her imperative.  

 

He smiled, charming her with his devious beauty, his tattooed hand reaching up to capture her chin. His hand was gentle, framing her face lovingly as he hooked a thumb under her jaw.

 

 _Beautiful_. His voice caressed her mind, and she shivered in pleasure at the praise she heard there.

 

Very deliberately, he turned her head to the crowd, once again on their feet and as they stood riveted, watching with glassy eyes as she fucked him.

 

On some surface level, she knew; it was _salacious, obscene, vulgar_. But this. This couldn’t be reality.

 

The hallowed vision of their coupling reflected in a hundred worshipful stares, hollow and covetous, and she didn’t break stride. Luxuriating in the perfection buried between the apex of her thighs, she tipped her head back, utterly unabashed as she rode his cock, letting the rapture she felt shine in her half-lidded eyes.

 

She arched her breasts into the air, biting her lower lip.

 

The crowd swooned. _Decadent_ , _addictive, ravishing._

 

He groaned beneath her, his massive hand releasing her chin to splay over her face, gently pushing her head back farther and holding her facing their audience. She felt his other hand roam up her body, rubbing enticingly at her breasts before seizing her waist as he began to thrust again.

 

Her lips parted, so flushed and red as she gasped, and she felt a distilled wave of lust roll off the spellbound watchers.

 

With her head thrown back, captured within his palm, she finally called his name.

 

“Kylo,” she murmured, softly, prayerfully.  

 

His voice cracked like a leather whip through her mind.

 

“Again.”

 

“Kylo!” she called, pleading now as the unknown built higher.

 

His growl was decadent, its sound dripping like sugared heroine down her spine. Still, he kept her locked in place.

 

“Kylo, _please_!” she cried, breasts bouncing as his thrusts sped up.

 

“Mmm. I’ve got such a soft spot for you,” he growled, gripping her as he sat up, flipping her still impaled and pinning her to the padded bench.

 

She slid against it, writhing and slippery as he began to fuck her in earnest, making her cries ring out with each slap of his hips.

 

“Feel this,” he ground out, reaching down to press her hand over her abdomen.

 

Her mind flickered like a faulty light bulb, threatening to short-circuit as she perceived the bulge of his cock pumping wildly in her body.

 

“Feel me inside of you Rey,” he commanded, pulling her down into the firestorm of his endless stare.

 

She plummeted into it, her spine locking as his dick stroked, bringing her to the brink of irreconcilable rapture. He paused as she teetered.

 

“Feel me deep in that tight little pussy,” he purred, thrusting in with a well-aimed stroke.

 

She shot off the precipice, a scream of shock rending the air as her body immolated with destructive pleasure. Clinging to his body, she sobbed aloud, unable to do anything but take it, riding out the lurid waves of ecstasy, tumbling under him like a puppet with its strings cut.

 

Her mouth formed a perfect O as she felt a visceral explosion within her, his cock firing deep in her womb. The hot fount of his pleasure was inhumanly strong, filling her in an instant, pressurizing her body and triggering a renewed cascade of rapture. Distantly, she felt wetness stream out of her as the pressure ebbed to liquid warmth.

 

Darkness took her eyes as her nails skinned his chest in retaliation, her body convulsing on his still-fountaining cock. Galaxies burned behind her eyelids, bursting and weaving tracers down into nothingness.

 

His voice was the very last thing, cinching the noose of his ownership.

 

_Feel me in your soul…_

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All about them names: The term _Hellcniht_ literally translates to Hell Knight, an Old English term for a demon. "Demon" comes from Latin daemon "spirit," from Greek daimon "deity, divine power; lesser god; guiding spirit, tutelary deity" (sometimes including souls of the dead); "one's genius, lot, or fortune;" from PIE *dai-mon- "divider, provider" (of fortunes or destinies), from root *da- "to divide." 
> 
> I became really excited when I stumbled across "Hellcniht." Could anything be more perfect to describe our fav Dark Prince in demonic guise!? 
> 
>  
> 
> _Master of the Hell Knights of Ren._
> 
>  


	4. The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day one of the aftermath. Rey awakes in her own bed and tries to make sense of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever made a really bad decision and awoken the next day with that feeling of dread in your stomach? Facing the music is no fun, but I'm confident none of us have ever had it as bad as our heroine is about to.
> 
> All aboard the angst train for a looooong winding ride.

  
  
  
  


Softness. 

 

Soft all around. Wrapped in a familiar cloud-like nimbus as awareness slowly grew. Her eyelids fluttered before sliding closed again, unwilling to register anything but the cocoon that cradled her. It was so soothing, so safe. Rey sighed drowsily, moving her feet a little to feel the brushed cotton smooth over her skin. Minutes later, she cracked an eye and took in the wash of light that filled her flat, indicating she’d slept in. A little smile formed and she burrowed deeper, relishing the fact that it was Sunday.

 

The silence in her top-floor corner unit was peaceful. After enduring the tedium of undergrad dorm living followed by several years of roommates, she’d finally made it to a place where she could afford solitude. Everything just as she liked it; her decor, her music, her schedule. It was well worth all the years of busting her ass, and when she remembered her roots and the life she came from, it only made it sweeter. 

 

She dozed on and off, up to her nose in the feather-down duvet, her naked body wrapped in 1000 thread-count heaven.

 

Gradually, thirst crept in and prodded her into a greater state of awareness. Giving in to the need, she groggily raised up on both elbows and leaned over, reaching for the tall glass of water on her nightstand. A deep ache in her core made itself known and she paused. Her brows furrowed as she grimaced, sitting up further. 

 

Why was she so sore  _ there?  _

 

Frowning a little, Rey reached for the water again.  _ Jeez. What a night...I don’t even remember pouring this… _

 

She was parched and guzzled the entire glass, tipping it up to finish it. When it was empty, she stared blankly down at it, turning it in her hands as her frown deepened.  

 

_ How did I get home?  _ She glanced down at the floor and blinked. No pile of clothing.

 

“Where the fuck are my clothes?” she mumbled, sweeping back her bedding in annoyance. 

 

As she swung her legs over the side, the ache in her core resurrected with a subtle throb.  _ What is that about? _ A lock of dark hair fell over her eyes as she curled over herself and gently explored her sex.  _ Ouch! _ She was tender, the folds of her labia feeling sort of... _ bruised _ ? 

 

She didn’t know if it was her low blood pressure or fear that caused the faint cold prickling feeling over her cheeks and forehead.

 

She needed a mirror. Her hand shot out, gripping the edge of the nightstand as she gingerly stood. Her dismay stacked itself higher as she noticed that the rest of her was abnormally sore as well, more so than was usual after a night of frenetic dancing. 

 

“For fuck’s sake, Rey, what did you do?” she muttered nervously, shuffling toward the bathroom.

 

Her inner thighs  _ hurt _ so! 

 

The ache brought to mind a memory from her first year with Maz, one that had gone a long way in garnering Rey’s hard-won love and trust. The old woman had fulfilled one of her fondest childhood wishes, signing her up to enjoy a week of riding camp. For an underprivileged child fresh out of the foster system, every second of it had been magic, even if she’d been unable to walk properly the entire time.

 

The price of hours in the saddle was fresh on her mind now as she paused, looking down with a grimace as she stretched out a leg. Rounding the corner, she came face-to-face with her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling closet doors. 

 

Her world shrank dizzyingly and she gasped in shock. 

 

A blotchy collar of purple and red adorned her throat, and her breasts sported several lurid marks as well.

 

She sagged against the doorframe, her eyes round as she took in the bruises. All of them roughly oval, about the size of a mouth.

 

A warbling keen burst from her, breaking the fragile silence as she sank to the floor. With a growing sense of dread, she did the next logical thing. Fixing her eyes on her reflection, she slipped her fingers through her moist folds, spreading her outer lips so that she could see.

 

Her inner labia were a bit swollen, otherwise, everything looked normal. 

 

Finding her feet, she lurched for the toilet, suddenly needing to pee. It stung a little, and when she dabbed gingerly, the toilet paper came away pink. 

 

Her heart slammed in her ribcage... _ had she _ …? 

 

No...there was  _ no way _ she would’ve... 

 

She let out a snort of skeptical laughter before lowering her head into her hands, the hollow flare of humor guttering out as quickly as it had come. She stared blankly at the hardwood under her feet. How the fuck was her memory so fucking useless?! Why couldn’t she remember?! 

 

She wasn’t a drinker, there was no reason why she shouldn’t recall the night. Her frustration grew, combining with her growing panic to form an explosive amalgam in her gut that suddenly ignited. 

 

_Where_ _the fuck are my clothes, how the hell did I get home, and how in the living *fuck* did I get these...hickies?!--_ she shook her head, grimacing before continuing her mental tirade _\--all fucking over, and...and possibly even have_ …

 

“NO!” she shrieked, pinching her eyes shut as she rejected the thought. There was no _way_ she’d have slept with anyone-- _for the first fucking time--_ and not remembered it. 

 

Doubt echoed traitorously through her mind, seeding its poison. _ Then why are you so sore down there, hmm? And the bruises...their shape...so many...places you’d never bruise any other way… _

 

She took a couple of deep breaths, mentally fumbling for the steely determination that was her backbone. It was there as it had ever been, lending her strength. 

 

Standing again, she regarded herself over the sink with a look of dismay. “What the fuck is  _ wrong  _ with you…” she slurred, half-pleading and half-scolding, squinting at her reflection as if the truth could be discerned by a shrewd stare. 

 

Her hands shook as she fumbled with a bottle of ibuprofen. She popped four and turned on the faucet, drinking from cupped hands and splashing water over her face. 

 

_ S’okay, babe. You’re a survivor, you’ve got this _ .  _ Just keep moving. Never back, always forward _ . 

 

Leaning over the sink, she stretched her neck out and pressed gingerly at the bruises, drawing back to give herself a worried stare. How had she gotten them, and how could she deal with any of this properly when she couldn’t even recall what had gone down?

 

She breathed deeply, wrestling with her unwilling mind, trying to force the memories to return. Time ticked by, the silence of her flat suddenly unwelcome. Nothing came to her, not even the faintest glimmer. It was like shoveling snow in a white-out; she got nowhere in a hurry. 

 

Gnashing her teeth and rejecting the haunted expression she wore, she grabbed her toothbrush, swiped it with toothpaste and stalked to the shower, desperate for an epic scrub.

 

While going through the motions mindlessly, she filed through what she could recall, trying to retrace her steps. Hot water washed over her, soothing achy muscles, and the tough logic that had kept her afloat in rough situations kicked in. She cross-examined each memory of last night that she had, searching their facets for clues to her current state.

 

She’d caught a Lyft to that club in the SoDo. It had been raining. She remembered the bouncer and door girl, and checking out the club scene. Picking her spot at the edge of the dancefloor. Dancing hard, losing herself like she always did. Colored fog and strobe lights. The DJ spinning in his crow's nest. The stage with its twisted array of bondage equipment....and nothing. Nothing after that. Just dancing in her favored spot near the edge of the crowd... 

 

_ How could this be?! Did she have a concussion?  _ She felt all around her skull. Nothing tender, no lumps or abrasions. All of her ailments appeared to be lower down.

 

Rey faced the spray, letting the water pour over her face and rinse her hair, lips parted so she could breathe. Beneath her excruciating frustration was a tiny, cold stone of dread. It sat there, a kernel of disturbance deep in her tummy--bringing a nagging certainty that something was _really fucking_ _wrong_ , and that whatever it was lie just around the corner, waiting to spring and catch her in its jaws.

 

She turned off the faucet and exited, drying herself and slipping on her fluffy white bathrobe. Wrapping her hair in a towel, she made her way to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Her hands were a little shaky as she readied the french press, as desperate for a strong cup of coffee as she’d been for a shower. 

 

Maybe it was the constant overcast or the company of Seattleites that had turned her into a coffee addict. Whatever the case, she’d arrived at a place where mornings weren’t okay without it.  _ And holy fuck _ . There was never a morning when she’d needed it more. 

 

With a cup of life-giving brew cradled in both hands, she paced over to the antique bathtub couch that faced her wall of windows, grimacing at the stiff ache of her legs. She sank back into a pile of pillows the color of sea glass, blowing absently at the rim of her mug before taking a sip. The coffee was good. It’s warmth spread soothingly through her chest and belly, lending a lifeline as her eyes traveled slowly over the lay of her living room. 

 

There was a subtle, unobtrusive solace to be had in the act, in cataloging the familiar and unchanged. Her gaze skirted over the dual bookshelves stuffed with favorite books and the treasures she’d brought back from Kure Atoll; three glass fishing floats with their etched salt rings and the sun-bleached skull of a Laysan albatross.

 

Votives in mercury glass bells dotted the shelves, and the only “housepet” she allowed herself to own crowned the top shelf: a low-maintenance ponytail palm that had lived through her college days. 

 

There were several framed photos of her and Maz. They were laughing in one, covered in color dust and glitter as they crossed the finish line of the 5k she’d talked Maz into before her freshman year of college. The next was a shot Chewie had taken six years later, the two of them all decked out at the top of the Space Needle, toasting the achievement of her Masters in International Affairs.

 

Staring at Maz’s weathered, smiling face, Rey felt a pang of emotion. Her foster-turned-adoptive mother was the only person she’d ever  _ needed _ in all her life. The only one who’d ever walked the walk, proving her love with a steady hand and reliable actions.

 

_ You should call her, tell her something bad happened.. _ . _ she’d find some way to help you figure this out _ . 

 

As quickly as the thought had formed she shot it down. Talking to Maz was out of the question, at least until she had some idea what the hell was up. For god’s sake, she didn’t even know what to tell her! The corner of her lips twitched in annoyance. Whatever happened needed a clearer definition before she’d go troubling her aging mother with it. She sipped her coffee, swallowing to do away with the lump that had formed in her throat.

 

Inevitably, her attention wandered to her custom-made glass showcase and the treasure it housed. The tense set around her eyes softened as she traced the forms and eccentricities of each blade one-by-one. _Navaja, Andalucia._ _Khukuri, Persia. Nimcha, Algiers. Kindjal, Russia. Keris Dapur, Java._ She recited their names and origins like one would a rosary, losing herself in the sight of her most-prized possessions.

 

That she’d be drawn to collecting antique daggers fit in with the rest of her--she’d always taken an interest in edgier things. During her school years, her book reports had favored venomous sea snakes over furry mammals, and Egyptian embalming techniques held far more appeal than venerable Italian fashion designers. In eighth grade, she’d convinced Maz to let her keep a pet tarantula rather than a hamster, and when she’d finally obtained a driver’s license, her love of speed had landed her more tickets then she cared to admit.

 

If she were examined under the lens of “nature vs. nurture,” it might be tempting to believe that “nurture” had played a substantial role in the formation of her tastes. Her fascination with knives, for example, was something she could trace to the day. 

 

At the age of six, she’d been placed with a temporary foster family in Eugene, Oregon. Sumner McAllister was the name of her foster father at the time, a gruff but kind veteran who’d sustained a career-ending injury during Desert Storm. The man had kept an array of hand-held blades under locked glass in his garage, nothing with cultural or historical value, but a well-represented modern assortment of styles and purposes. 

 

One day, he’d caught little Rey hovering over the case, utterly enrapt. Instead of punishing her for trespassing where she didn’t belong, he’d sworn her to secrecy with threats of a good ass-whipping. Then he’d sat her down on a bar stool and unlocked the case with a reverent quality that wasn’t lost on Rey. 

 

With his rusty smokers voice and an obvious sense of pride, he’d taught her about knife anatomy, showing her the difference between a spear point and a drop point, a long, slender boot knife and an elegantly curved khukuri. 

 

Throughout her short-lived stay, Sumner had invited Rey back several times on good behavior, regaling her with adventures from his boyhood while demonstrating the proper way to oil and sharpen a blade. Though he never let her handle them, she had loved it, sitting there with the neon beer signs lending a colorful glow to the darker corners, feeling like she’d been initiated into some magical world. 

 

She’d really liked the McAllisters, going so far as to cry when the social workers relocated her. They were brisque, salt-of-the-earth people, but you always knew where you stood with them. Their expectations were straightforward and fair, and they were loving in their own way. 

 

Rey had taken many of the things she’d learned there with her, including a healthy vocabulary of swear words that was likely one of the reasons she was moved in the first place. Certainly, her time in that dark garage had seeded her aichmomania, leaving her hopelessly fascinated with daggers and knives. 

 

One of the things she loved was a blade’s honesty. Unlike guns, they were not insidious by nature; their hazard was born with pride, flaunted in mirrored edges and honed points. A dagger was useful, lovingly crafted, and every culture had its own venerated designs and purposes. They were antiquities, one of the very first tools crafted by humans, and yet they remained as valuable now as they were back at the dawn of humanity.

 

She was a selective collector, preferring pieces that hailed from different parts of the world and were as old as possible. It gave her a thrill to hold an ancient blade and imagine the artisan who’d crafted it and the world it had been born into. Who’s hands had held it and how had it served its owners? What were the homes it had been a part of, and what events had come to pass around it?

 

Her imagination wandered like it always did as her eyes moved from piece to piece, and she relaxed a bit more. The fragrant steam from her mug wafted her face, and she inhaled, feeling soothed by the familiarity of her morning routine and the sense of normalcy attained by simply sitting in her living room.

 

Drawing up her knees, she peered over the rim of her coffee and out the wall of windows. Even after six months, she still got a little thrill out of it. That she’d been able to get this place was a wonder. It was spacious and spoke of bygone days, with the high ceilings and exposed brick you’d expect of a near century-old building. As if that weren’t enough, her fifteenth-floor corner unit boasted the sought-after commodity of a sweeping view of Elliot Bay. 

 

All of the plumbing and heat had been retrofitted a decade ago, and they’d added glass sliders and balconies that awarded tenants on the upper floors a ninety-degree slice of the Emerald City. The dichotomy of an urban landscape with all that water to tame it was indescribably lovely, and being able to admire it from the comfort of her own couch was worth every penny of her extortionate rent. 

 

Today, the sky was gray as a pigeon’s wing. The sound met and raised it, glowering a severe shade of pewter. Sipping at her coffee, her eyes traveled downwards, drawn by the sight of something out of place. It was a crumpled dark pile on her patio floor. 

 

She frowned.  _ What the hell is that? _

 

Leaning forward, she absently set her coffee down and rose to stand. The backlit glare washed out the details of the thing, making it impossible for her to tell what it was from where she stood. She stared hard at it as her frail sense of comfort fled, replaced by a pensive sense of foreboding that coiled in her gut. Cautiously, she approached her slider with a heart that sped with each step. 

 

Her brows furrowed as she looked down at it, swallowing hard as she recognized the thing on the other side of the glass. A tremor lit through her as she perceived the vast yawning chasm at her feet, her instincts screaming she was at the edge of understanding that which had eluded her.

 

_ Fuck. _

 

Slowly, unwillingly, she slid the heavy, double-paned door open, admitting a cold gust of salty air. As she stepped over the threshold, her stomach dropped out. 

 

Tucked neatly against the wall were the boots she’d worn last night. 

 

And at her feet, the missing cargos, shirt, bra and panties, the former three bearing the signature of a violent demise.

 

She sank to her knees before them, green eyes wide and unfocused. The sharp cold was lost on her as she gathered them up on her lap, her hands trembling like leaves.

 

Her pussy throbbed. Part pain, part something warm and stealthy. 

 

A muscle memory. Something  _ sliding _ . 

 

_ It was coming, it was- _ -her eyes flew wide, back stiffening ramrod straight.

 

Like a bolt illuminating a darkened sky, the missing memories slotted into place.

 

Her face crumpled into a frozen sob as she scrambled backward on hands and knees, mindlessly fleeing the impossible images that pummeled her.

 

_ Him. _

 

His dark eyes flared red in her mind’s eye.

 

She heard his name called in her own voice as she collapsed on her back, caught in the bunched folds of her robe as she stared unseeing at the ceiling.

 

Hot tears flowed as she relived the unspeakable all over again.

 

_ All of time stopped to create the nightmarish game in which she was the quarry and he, her hunter.  _

 

_ The rawness of her desperation, her unmet need to escape him.  _

 

_ People with their unresponsive faces, their bodies frozen in aborted motion.  _

 

_ The impossibility of the temptation that had accompanied the press of his body. _

 

_ The damnation of each sinuous, addictive kiss.  _

 

_ How he’d punished her for attempting escape.  _

 

_ The way he’d restarted time with a little snap of his fingers.  _

 

_ The intimate murmur of his voice as he’d alternated between tender and merciless, slipping elegantly through her defenses as he broke her before the gaze of strangers.  _

 

Her heart throbbed fearfully as the memory of her vow returned. 

 

_ Anything...I’ll do anything _ …

 

The dagger. 

 

She wrenched her finger up for inspection, whispering in wordless denial. Panic closed about her throat as she beheld the small puncture.  _ How had she not seen it earlier?! _ Lurid threads emanated from the wound like poisoned veins, flowing artfully into a scrawl that appeared to be some sort of archaic writing. 

 

His words spread like ink through her mind.  _ It’s nothing, really. A single drop of blood, given willingly. _

 

Fear like she’d never felt knifed through her body as she curled into a fetal position, instinctively shielding herself. 

 

_ What had she done?! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favor, my peeps! If you feel I'm missing a tag that would be beneficial as far as trigger warnings go, throw a sock at me! <3


	5. Denial, Too, Shall Perish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey goes on a long run to flee the truth, but ~~he~~ _it_ catches up to her in the forests of Discovery Park. She makes a reckless attempt at escape and pays the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGERS AND NON-CON SMUT ABOUND, LIKE IN THE DEAL ^^^ More than MY usual but not more than you'd see in any dark(er) R-rated movie, only with really graphic xxx. This chapter includes mentions of suicide. Keyword takeaway: MENTIONS. 
> 
> I'll include a brief breakdown in lower notes for those who want to check before they read.

 

 

_Songspiration:[Darkfield,](https://youtu.be/Azwuqj7JnMI) Caspian _

_This song is absolutely perfect and sooo heavy. It sounds for all the world like a chase with a tragic end, like the sound of evil winning. Give 'er a whirl. <3_

 

 

* * *

 

_Run._

 

It was all she could think of, the only remedy for the spiraling horror that festered in her mind. The only thing that made sense as her sanity lurched sickeningly.

 

_Run it out. Until you collapse. Until you don’t feel._

 

She rooted through her dresser with hands that shook, blindly snatching leggings and a sports bra and yanking them on. Somehow, her running shoes made it onto her feet even as she battled the sob that lurked at the back of her throat.

 

She glanced down at her fingertip and it made her want to crawl out of her own skin. The writing on her flesh remained, as did his bite marks, visceral proof that this was all real.

 

_No!!_

 

Her jaw clenched, barely containing the sob that had crept forward onto her tongue. Jamming her key into a zippered pocket of her jacket, she yanked on her doorknob and bolted from her flat. She left behind the scene of the crime, that place where she’d been made to remember.

 

Not having the patience or fortitude for the elevator, Rey took the stairs.

 

She raced down the fifteen flights, her desperation growing as the stairwell seemed to close in on her. Finally, she reached the exit, spilling onto 2nd and Cherry Street with a small cry of relief.

 

Cool, muted light and blessedly icy air greeted her, but these small favors were nothing compared to the endless path that stretched before her, merciful as the open arms of the Mother Mary. She let gravity pull her into a sprint as she streaked downhill, cutting across First Ave and making for the waterfront as if chased by rabid dogs.

 

Rey let the soothing cadence of the run take over her mind as she focused on the efficiency of her stride. She forced herself not to think of last night, of him. _There is only this; move one foot forward then the next. Watch the ground underfoot. Inhale, two beats, exhale, two beats. Again._

 

Reaching Alaskan Way, she headed north along the docks, zipping through the tourists that thronged the waterfront. Distantly she became aware of the recurring incidence of appalled looks directed at her neckline. A surge of bile burned in her throat as she yanked her collar up and zipped it, concealing most of the lurid red and purple discoloration.

 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!!!_

 

Anger lit through her and she accelerated, wanting to hit something.

 

_What the hell is happening?! How is this even real?!_

 

She struggled with her options, torn between the need to process what had happened and her instinctive desire to repress it. Lost in the snarl of her debate, she continued onto Elliot Bay trail, passing Olympic Sculpture Park but seeing only the way his eyes had winked blood-red.

 

It had only taken the most casual of motions and he’d stopped time, isolating her in a sea of human statues. That in itself would have been horror enough, but then he’d... _nononono!!_

 

The sob-in-waiting tore loose, giving voice to the agony that now overflowed. He’d taken her virginity _._  And she? She had _enjoyed it--_ enjoyed her own rape at the hands of a monster.Could there be _anything_ in all the world more vile or depraved?

 

_The pleasure is the punishment._

 

Tears streamed back over her cheeks as the full meaning of his words dawned.

 

She fled from the awful truth, oblivious to the occasional sympathetic look from people she passed. Her surroundings were a blur as she continued on, tracing the curve of Interbay and into Magnolia.

 

The aches of her body were an anchor of sorts. They were real, and normal, and sane. They made sense, reminders that some of the laws of cause and effect still were in play around her. So long as she lived in the now and didn’t think about how she’d gotten them, it would be okay.

 

A whimper snuck from her throat as she considered the very real possibility that she was losing it. Sweat dripped into her eyes and she swiped at her forehead. Maybe it would better that way. Then what happened last night could all be a figment of her imagination. That warm ache between her legs, the bruises, her _fucking_ finger—all part of her psychosis. All the fault of a sudden chemical imbalance and synapses that misfired in spectacular fashion.

 

The steady cadence of her run dictated the sharp puffs of her breath, each fueling the other as her mind warred with itself. All around her, residential neighborhoods gave way to a well-kept meandering road, and as she crested a hill, the gates of Discovery Park came into view. She raced toward them blindly, fighting not to rail at the low ceiling of moisture overhead. After all she’d been through in life, all the sketchy situations and fucked up years she’d spent under Plutt’s roof, it was nothing short of a miracle that she had retained her virginity.

 

She recalled something that had been said, and the injustice of it was near unbearable. At the horror-movie sight of his elongating canines, she’d cried out to God in a desperate plea for divine intervention. His response had alluded that there was indeed a God. But what God would allow such a cruel, twisted thing to happen to one who’d endured all she had?  How could any benevolent deity let her retain the purity of her body, _against all odds_...only to let a creature of nightmares claim it?

 

Her rising fury banked itself into cold ashes as that little voice whispered in her brain. _Your virginity is the least of what you lost last night._

 

Her eyes widened unseeingly, her smooth cadence breaking into a stumbling jog as she remembered the anguished moment when their blood had mingled. When all reality had fallen away, leaving only the ephemeral light she knew to be her soul and the towering red-eyed menace she was soldered to. Terror and pain of the likes unimaginable as part of her being was torn away. She relived her own electric despair as his darkness filled the rift, sealing her to him irrevocably. And there at the last, crushing defeat, too heavy to bear.

 

The gravity of her situation sank in and she wept freely, passing beneath the gates and veering down one of the numerous jogging paths that wove through the 500-odd acres of coastal rainforest.

 

Douglas fir and western red cedar formed a canopy, their branches curving toward her protectively as if trying to shield her from her perilous new reality. The usual sense of calm she derived from natural surroundings was utterly lost as she drowned in her own woe.

 

Through the blur of her tears, she spotted an open field. At its center were public restrooms, a playground and several pavilions. Pausing amongst the trees, she wiped at her face furiously, pacing the trail like a caged tiger as she attempted deep breaths.

 

 _Calm the fuck down. You’re still vertical, and that means forward-moving ONLY, sister. It doesn’t matter if it was real or not, we leave it in the past, and that’s how we roll._  

 

It worked, as it always had--that inner core of strength sustaining her. _In through the nose, out through the mouth, and forward you go_.

 

With a final deep breath, she emerged from under the canopy. Her throat was parched, and the water fountain looked like salvation itself. Several children chased each other through the trappings of a primary-colored fort while their parents stood aside talking amongst one another.

 

It was the first time she’d halted since the start of her fear-fueled run. In the stillness, Rey realized how fatigued her body was. Her muscles trembled finely as she stooped over the stream to guzzle draught after draught of icy water.

 

She’d straightened and was wiping her mouth with a sleeve when she heard a male voice speak behind her.

 

“ _Hellooo_ , beautiful.”

 

Her eyes went wide as her heart launched itself off a cliff.

 

That low, intimate purr was proof that nightmares were real, that they weren't constrained to the lightless hours, that they came back to get you. She didn’t, couldn’t turn, too afraid he’d become a fixed part of her reality if she looked and saw him.

 

 _Here, with her, in the light of day_.

 

The seconds crawled like years as she remained rooted to the ground, every muscle frozen in paralytic indecision. She felt him draw near, the heat of his body warming her back. A solitary finger traced down her spine.

 

“How are you even real?” she whispered hoarsely, shivering at the casual way he touched her.

 

His answer was silken, warm breath fanning the back of her ear. “My little vixen. Your delusions are the best sort of flattery, but still--your body can’t lie. The proof of our bond is literally at your fingertip, amongst other more... _delectable_ places.”

 

His innuendo was what she needed. Her blood lit with a sickening jolt of adrenaline and she catapulted from him without a backward glance, launching into the sprint of her lifetime.

 

Forget her odds of escape, fleeing was a _necessity_. She applied every muscle to her speed, racing swiftly down a wooded jogging path, trying to pound the fright from her body with each reverberating connection.

 

As before, he followed.

 

It was unearthly. Whenever she turned to look, he was there. Walking calmly. Never running, but never falling behind either. She choked back her cries of dismay, valiantly trying to keep her shit together, but desperation was taking hold and making her clumsy. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to shake him.

 

Light filtered through the trees ahead, glimpses of the wan gray horizon becoming visible through the understory. A flighty hope seized her, and she focused on it, using it to keep herself upright even as her body threatened to give out, her energy near completely spent.

 

Breaking through the understory, she took in the high cliff and dark waters below. Her feet stumbled in an effort to slow as her mind cycled rapid-fire through her non-existent options, trying to gauge the distance of a fall. Her need to escape by any means necessary was strong, and the forbidding growl at her back was her deciding factor.

 

Wild panic seized her as she increased her speed, sprinting over yellowed grass as she neared the edge. She said a hasty prayer that there weren’t any rocks below as she flew off the cliff, putting all remaining strength into her leap.

 

The jade-green waters rushed up terrifyingly fast. Rey knew a split-second of relief as she registered the surface, strewn with kelp and free of rocks.

 

The terrible sound of aborting reality filled her ears, drowning out the sound of the whistling air. Just as she was about to impact the surface, her body froze as time stopped.

 

She floated a scant foot above the water, her arms held out instinctively to break her fall. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the surreal reflection she cast before a fresh wave of tears blinded her. Held in a state of suspension, she folded in upon herself, breaking down internally and bawling, unable to make a sound.

 

The rhythmic drafts of wingbeats fanned her back, making the surface of the water shimmer and dance as he descended to claim her. Hard hands clasped her waist as he yanked her impatiently into his arms and folded her against his broad chest. Those black-feathered wings she’d glimpsed beat the air, lifting them up the vertical rock face to the cliff she’d just fled. As his feet touched down, they folded neatly at his back and grew translucent before fading like a shadow at high noon.

 

Facing him now and still in the grips of his spell, she had no choice but to meet his anger. She quailed, staring into the roiling darkness of his eyes, so close she could see the little embers sizzling in their depths.

 

Lying helpless in his arms, she wished herself dead as she observed the way his nostrils flared, lips twitching with the effort to restrain his fury. It was unspeakably terrifying, made worse by his silence. The second she felt free will returned to her, she was shrinking in his arms, caving in upon herself like a slip of paper thrown to the flames. Her hands clapped over her mouth as she fought the urge to vomit.

 

His hands were huge, eclipsing her ribcage and both knees, holding her in a bruising vise.

 

Despair rocked through her, blinding her to thoughts of further escape.

 

His voice rolled over her like a breaking storm. “Was it so bad that you felt the need to risk your life? Is my company so dreadful?”

 

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. He waited in silence, still glaring at her.

 

At last, a pathetic semblance of speech returned. “What does it matter what I want or don’t want?” she replied, her cracked voice betraying her hopelessness. “You’ll just use your power over me regardless.”

 

“You know nothing!” he thundered, shocking her into silence. “I have largely spared you from the brunt of my abilities. But if you continue to persist with this foolishness--” he threatened, furiously tipping his chin at the cliff side with obvious disdain, “you’ll force my hand.” 

 

A current of anger flowed through her core, thawing the numbness and returning some of her spunk. “I’ll _never_ stop trying to get away from you. Death is preferable,” she declared lowly, returning his glare.

 

“Is that so?” he inquired ominously, giving her a long, calculating look. His lip quirked as his eyes narrowed resentfully.

 

Then he took a deep breath, and as he exhaled, his face relaxed, growing serene and statue-like as he held her gaze unblinkingly.

 

A change was coming over him. It was as if he’d chosen to cast aside a great smothering shadow that hid his true being. Light grew around him, in him, and Rey found herself unable to look away.

 

He was suddenly guileless, and stunningly beautiful. Her eyes widened in mute shock as she beheld what surely was an angel staring calmly back at her. His eyes were soft and dark, containing in them sonorous delight and profound sorrow, captivating her utterly in their warm depths. Serenity became her as all of the angst and strife drained away, leaving her empty.

 

An empty vessel, awaiting his command.

 

His gaze flickered over her face, measuring her before his perfect lips parted, unleashing the imperative she’d been waiting for. It came over her like absolution, his lyrical voice speaking words that stirred the waters of her soul. “You will never again attempt any escape that risks injury.”

 

Every cell and fiber of her being responded to the chance to do his bidding. “I will never again attempt any escape that risks injury,” she repeated solemnly, her heart full.

 

Her vow rushed through her arterial pathways, a golden thread that flooded into every cell of her body, binding her resolutely. It made its circuit and settled, solidifying in her subconciousness as a part of the codex that defined who she was. She lay in his arms in a state of bliss, docile and at peace. Slowly, the glow about him faded, taking her sense of contentment with it.

 

He was walking when her mind registered, carrying her beneath a high canopy of familiar evergreens. The lacy branch of a red huckleberry brushed her cheek, and she blinked, her awareness returning fully. She looked at him in growing bewilderment, not knowing what had just transpired but understanding that something had.

 

“What did you just do?” she whispered, dreading the answer even as she had to know.

 

“I overpowered you,” he replied shortly, not deigning to explain further.

 

Bitterness returned. “That’s nothing new,” she sulked.

 

“No.” His retort was sharp, as was the look he leveled her with. “This is the first time,” he snarled, eyes narrowing into primordial darkness. “And it had better be the last. I have no desire to alter your persuasion.”   

 

Something cruel tempered his fury and his eyes winked red as the light hit them just right, revealing the predator that hid beneath his human disguise. “Besides,” he said spitefully, “you become agreeable enough given the right... _conditioning_.”  

 

Instantly, she saw herself as an onlooker might; her naked limbs shining with sweat as she gripped his hips, in complete control as she undulated sensually, riding his cock with shameless delight.

 

Rey stared sightlessly as her face went sheetrock white. The understanding that he’d sent this image into her brain registered and it was more than she could take.

 

“You lied to me!” she shrieked. “You promised that if I gave you something willingly, you wouldn’t, wouldn’t---” her voice quavered, unable to continue as the moment was invoked, replayed for her unwilling mind to absorb every unspeakable detail.

 

The hint of amusement kindled in his lidded eyes as he watched her struggle. “Wouldn’t what, Rey?”

 

She swallowed, exhaling, hating with every inch of her being how hard it was to say it.

 

“You _fuckingbastard_ …” she slurred weakly.

 

“How I’ve missed your pet names,” he said dryly, making it obvious she wouldn’t get an answer until she asked properly.

 

Finally, she came to grips with herself, speaking through the clench of her jaw. “You promised me you wouldn’t _rape me_ before a fucking club-full of people, you heartless, lying son-of-a-bitch!”

 

He remained unmoved, his brows arching in nonchalant surprise. “Come now,” he chided. “You made a bargain with a demon. Did you really think I might uphold my end of the deal, hmm?”

 

“I had no choice!” she cried, her hands balling into fists as she glared accusingly at him.

 

“All in my favor, little vixen.”

 

Her short sob spoke of unfairness, catching bitterly in her throat.

 

Finally, he gave her a direct look, studying her face for a moment. “You were the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, breaking yourself in on my cock.”

 

Her heart dropped as his soft words sank into her like darts, sending a foreign thrill racing. She felt her nipples tighten in response and hated herself.

 

He pulled her chin up roughly, forcing her to look at him. “It would be a sin for such an exquisite sight to go unappreciated.”

 

She tore her head away wordlessly, unable to stand it.

 

“Ah, Rey,” he coaxed, “they weren’t awake as you are now. They watched with only the id of their conscious brain, worshiping the raw carnality of how we fucked.”

 

He enunciated the last two words clearly, winning her cringe before continuing in an amused tone.

 

“They won’t remember you, or me, or anything out of the ordinary about that night. So you see? I did indeed upkeep my end of the bargain. And as a sign of my affection and the brand of my signature, I even brought you home and tucked you into bed. Why, I even thought to pour you a glass of water.”

 

She saw him smirk from the corner of her eye, the first time he’d smiled since her leap from the cliff.

 

“Now tell me. What sort of demon provides aftercare, hmm?”

 

She snarled in disgust, wanting nothing more that to backhand that smug look off of his face. Her muscles felt physically weak after the furious run she’d subjected herself to. Even so, the discontent became too great and she twisted in his arms, desperate to take some action in opposition.

 

“Put me down!” she cried, twisting again. “I don’t want this,” she whined childishly, panic rising up in her breast with the mindless imperative that she struggle.  

 

The look he leveled her with froze the blood in her veins. It said everything she needed to know, realizing her fears. A pathetic whimper snuck from her throat at what passed unspoken.

 

_There will be no escape._

 

“My name is upon you, mortal girl, and you’d do well to embrace it. I’ll come for you whenever I want, and I’ll take you on your plane or mine. Since you are dissatisfied with yours, you should taste the alternative, to better help you decide how you want it in the future.”

 

His eyes flared their awful carmine, and suddenly they were tipping sideways. Rey’s perception spun as she clung to her captor’s neck, certain they’d crash upon the ground...her ears popped and she blinked, shaking her head slightly to clear the vertigo. Her lungs were still, not breathing as they stood firm on the forest floor.

 

Something was amiss.

 

The hair on the back of her neck rose. Looking around them, she tried to place it, noting how the always-muted light under the canopy had thickened, as though the very quality of the atmosphere changed.

 

 _A_ _deadening_.

 

She swallowed as disquiet sank needle-like claws into her skin, sharpening her vision as she peered over his wide shoulder for the source.

 

She was still being born through the forest, but the trees were all wrong.

 

Their branches forked into menacing claws that scraped desperately at the air, and sap wept down their trunks like milky tears. Outbreaks of fungi sprouted from the deeply grooved bark, unwholesome and strange.

 

Rey’s stomach tightened at the stillness that blanketed them, feeling as if the whole scene waited with bated breath, the forest alive with an air of malignant awareness that made her skin crawl.

 

He walked onward, navigating through the foreboding place with purpose. She now clung to him in real fear of their surroundings; he, the only anchor she had left in what had become alien and nightmarish.

 

Something flew into her eye, blurring her vision for a moment. She wiped at it and peeked upward, blinking cautiously. What looked like tiny flakes of ash fluttered lazily down through the canopy, and a charred smell laced the air.

 

Strange things skittered and slithered through underbrush coated with ash. She heard cries that sounded eerily like those of children, once catching a glimpse of a scaly hind leg and a long, misshapen tail before the creature slunk out of sight. _Unnatural_.

 

Rey’s dread percolated into a churning brew in her gut. She was dying inside, wanting to know where he was taking her but too terrified to ask.

 

A pale glow came from up ahead, ghostly and impure. The trees obscured it partially, but as he closed in, it became clear that the source of the frightful light was their destination.

 

Her heart froze against her rib cage as it came into view. A monstrous tree; its canopy vast and wider than any she’d ever seen on earth. _For certainly, they weren’t on earth any longer._ She shivered as her eyes wandered over it unwillingly, noting the pods that dangled from the boughs like monstrous spider eggs.

 

They hung suspended from the branches by thick ropes that glowed with a sickly gray light. Rey felt her gorge rise. Their sizes were unnervingly human-like.

 

She jumped as his voice cut through the stillness like a knife through jello.

 

“This is a Tree of Lost Souls. It is a holding cell, a purgatory for those released through the act of suicide. They languish here in an agony of waiting...”

 

Rey shook her head, her mouth working silently, begging him to stop, that she didn’t want to know anymore.

 

He set her down beneath the tree, but she found herself pressed against his chest, unwilling to part from him. His eyes were dark as a moonless night as they held hers.

 

The inked symbols on his knuckles danced through the veil of her tears as he reached slowly for her face. He trailed the back of a finger over her cheek, confusing her with tenderness as his voice echoed in her mind. _Ti sei quasi unito a loro._

 

The words meant nothing, and she’d opened her mouth to beg him for mercy when she caught the sight of movement overhead. Her head jerked up, watching in horror as one of the pods moved, bulging as something shifted within its luminescent prison.

 

Her hands tangled in the dark fabric of his shirt, locked into claws as she trained her blurry vision on his collarbone, determined not to look up again.

 

She didn’t see how he reached up to summon a thick glowing rope, peeling one of her locked hands from his shirt and binding it. Terror made her numb, like a shell-shocked bystander.

 

Surely none of this was really happening…

 

Whatever he’d slipped over her wrist felt like the kiss of a cloud, ephemeral and light, nothing that could actually restrain her. Her other wrist was peeled inexorably from his chest, quickly meeting the same fate as its twin.

 

Too late, she looked up at him tearfully, pleading as her wrists were drawn over her head. “Kylo, please, please take me away from here.”

 

His face was unreadable as he made a casual upward motion with his fingers. The gossamer ropes obeyed, pulling her body taut before lifting her from the ground.

 

Deep, heart-wrenching despair lit the pathways of her nerves as she was hoisted up into the canopy to hang amongst the damned. Her eyes were locked on the creature staring up at her, unwilling to look around at the trapped souls that were her company.

 

His face was cold and impassive as his wings unfolded, stretching high over his head before sweeping down, lifting him into the air with a single violent stroke.

 

He ascended to face her, wings spread over him like feathered sails of smoke. She focused on them, glad to have something, anything to distract her from her nightmarish surroundings. Her eyes blearily traced their structure, noting that they were stationary as he hovered effortlessly in the viscous air.

 

She’d been too afraid to cry, or whimper, or make any sound that might rouse the things that hung all around them. His hands engulfed the span of her hips, and she found the strength.

 

“What do you want?” she managed, face crumpling as her throat closed off again.

 

His voice was a low growl. “I want you to remember this the next time panic prompts you to do something foolish. This is what would await you.”

 

Rey stared imploringly at him, tongue-tied as his fingers hooked in the waist of her pants.

 

“And I want you,” he paused, beginning to pull in opposite directions, “to understand, _unequivocally_ , how good you have it when I come _to you_.”

 

The seams split slowly, threads giving one by one as he stared her down expressionlessly.

 

Her pants slipped from her legs in pieces and spiraled to the ground. She felt dizzy. It was happening again. Here. _He was going to fuck her--_

 

His hands slipped beneath her thighs, pulling them up about his hips before drawing her panties aside. _He was going_ \--

 

She felt the nudge of his cock, it's head broad enough to encompass nearly all of her sensitive pink flesh.

 

She blinked rapidly. _He was--_

 

Pressure as he pushed. Her head fell back and she arched as her body gave way. She wasn’t wet and his shaft dragged against the walls of her sheath as he took her.

 

She cried out; a long, desperate lament that echoed through the sluggish air.

 

He took his time with it, drawing out the achy stretch of her body as she hung there helplessly. His dark eyes were fixed on her face, watching her misery with silent interest.

 

The first several thrusts were a battle, his mobility hindered by her terror. The way he slightly narrowed his eyes indicated that he seemed to enjoy waging it on her.

 

Tears flowed freely as she gazed at him, imploring him in a silent mantra. _Please, please, please take me down_.

 

He remained unmoved, penetrating her body as her sanity teetered at the edge. She gasped for breath like a fish out of water, sobbing as quietly as she could.

 

His hands released her thighs but they remained immobilized, locked in a vise around his waist. She felt gentle support behind her neck and the back of her skull as one massive hand cradled her there.

 

Then came the velvet slide of his voice in her head. _There, there, little girl. Let’s put your nightmare on ice._

 

It became mercifully dark as he slid the other hand down her forehead to cover her eyes.

 

Her whole body convulsed in shock as a wave of destructive rapture poured through it.

 

The low vibration of his hum purred in her ear as he released that which had been withheld. Her head jerked within its warm prison, mouth forming a perfect O of surprise as a shiver wracked through her, so deep it shook her very bones.

 

In a hot instant, his shaft was slickened, bathed in the flood of moisture that was unleashed. It flowed down the portion of his cock that wasn’t buried in her, dripping lazily to the forest floor.

 

Dangling blind amidst the Tree of Lost Souls, he fucked her, pumping her full of him, giving her the only concrete reality on which to cling. She couldn’t see, couldn’t hang on to him. All she had was the one thing that was given. Her tense body came apart for him over and over, embracing the rock hard shaft that pistoned within it as though it were life support.

 

Her arms were weak from fighting the vaporous binds and her heart ached. “Please,” she faltered, her voice cracking, “give me something to hold--I need…”

 

“Shh. I know,” he soothed, freeing her hands.

 

Instantly, her arms were around him, clinging to his massive form in relief, pressing herself as tight against him as she could get.

 

She could breathe and drew in a lungful of air in a staggered gasp, still blissfully blind to their surroundings and entirely aware of the slippery place where he penetrated her.

 

“Hang on tight,” he warned.

 

His hands stayed locked over her eyes, and she felt his body tense, every muscle becoming inhumanly hard for a moment. At the same time, icy cold flashed over every inch of her, as though she’d been dipped into a cryogenic chamber and then removed instantly. Her skin stung a little, but the feeling passed as quickly as it registered.

 

The blind of his hands released but she kept her eyes closed, tucking her face against his neck, trembling, unwilling to look.

 

A familiar click and a heavy slide behind her and her head jerked up, eyelids flying open.

 

She stared in dumbfounded silence at a very familiar view as he strode into her living room, her thighs still wrapped securely around him. The slider closed like magic as she was carried towards her bed.

 

So great was her relief that she found herself planting mindless kisses of gratitude upon the column of his neck, nails digging into his shoulders as his dick tensed within her.

 

He seized her waist, throwing her off of him. She landed with a bounce upon her bed, given only a moment to stare up at him as he tore his clothes off, revealing that devastatingly gorgeous body.

 

Then he was yanking her down to the edge of the bed, muttering about how he was going to fuck the lights right out of her.  

 

In he slid, every decadent inch buried in an instant and she was crying out at how he filled her once more, arching as his mouth engulfed a breast and sucked, taking as much of it into his mouth as he could.

 

Pleasure rippled through her limbs, debilitating her. She needed to unlearn how good he felt.

 

He seemed to hear her thoughts and turned his mouth to her face, the words hard and absolute. “You’ll be made to know,” he promised with a dark smile, picking up his pace.

 

Her back dragged against the mattress with every thrust, the bed frame banging indecently. Anyone in the units around would have no doubts as to what was happening to her, and she couldn’t find it in her to care.

 

His dick pumped in and out, working her pussy into compliant mush, the pleasure raising chills over her entire body. It was so indecent, so luxurious, that the wrong word fell from her lips, damning her.

 

“Yes! Oh God, _yes_.”

 

His eyes glittered as an arrogant smile caressed his mouth.

 

She threw her head aside, closing her eyes so as not to see how he gloated.

 

“That’s a good girl,” he coaxed in his rumbling voice, ever the devil’s advocate. “Give in to the pleasure, let it take you.”

 

His teeth bit into her exposed neck and he sucked hard.

 

She keened, arching her much-smaller body up to meet his, rubbing her breasts against the tattooed expanse of his statuesque pectorals.

 

The pleasure of it, the pain caused her dam to break, all dignity bleeding out in a sudden torrent.

 

The words came tumbling from her breathlessly, sullying her with their complicity. “It’s so, so fucking good. How do you-- _ah!_ \--how do you do make it so good? Please! _mmh!_ \--give me more, I need--”

 

She broke off with a yelp as he pulled free and flipped her over, yanking her back into his lap. Suddenly she faced her headboard, her mind returned for a split second before that massive dick retook her.

 

Her body tipped back, head meeting his chest with a heartfelt cry, stunned all over again by the sheer control he exercised over her. _How stumblingly delicious it felt being split in two by him_. He began to pummel her from underneath, catching her outthrust breasts in his hands, rubbing at them. His voice was a nearly a snarl as it spoke filth that made her want to cry.

 

“This perfect little pussy is _mine_ , and I’m going to violate it over and over.”   

 

The new angle caught her g-spot perfectly and she felt the growing warmth of a climax. "Yes, ple-ease, _ta-ke i-it_ \--" she gasped, her words broken by each pounding thrust.

 

Suddenly she found her fingers directed to her splayed-out sex. He held her hand in place, whispering as he fucked her, making her feel his slick girth sliding in and out.

 

 _Taking it. Just like she'd asked him to._  

 

She didn't stand a chance, her world shattering as sure as her body. Plunging over the edge, she convulsed in red darkness upon his length, no sight, no sound, no awareness of anything but destructive, carnal pleasure. Then through the void, she heard the whisper of his voice. _Oh, Rey, feel how your body sucks at my cock, so hungry for me, baby...don’t worry, I’m gonna quench your thirst…_

 

Sound returned and she heard herself keening, heard the deep rumbling purr of his approval as he bathed in the homage her body paid.

 

A hand engulfed her throat, squeezing lightly as its mate gripped her hip in a vise. “My turn now,” he growled, hips whipping his cock up into her in a brutal frenzy.

 

His voice became breathy in her ear. “Gonna fuck you every day, pretty girl. Gonna train your body with this dick...feel how your body loves on it...”

 

She was too far gone to answer but cried out when his hand slapped her pubic bone lightly, jarring her clit.

 

“Wake for me,” he hissed, two fingers pressing down on her tiny bundle of nerves and undulating methodically. “Take every drop I give you.”

 

With a final brutal thrust, he paused for a beat, his cock pressed deep. A sharp jerk even deeper as the first spurt shot into her, then his groan was a sigh as he began to fountain, hips pressing urgently against her ass. His fingers and the soft pulses of dreamy warmth conspired against her. Her body responded as she tripped into another climax with a cry, her pussy wringing the marble length buried within it.

 

As she moaned in ecstasy, he murmured things against her skin, speaking in that arcane tongue that made her think of the creep of shadows. Somehow, in this warped new reality, the sound was oddly comforting, and she sagged back against him, panting for air.

 

At last, he stilled his lazy thrusts and lifted her limp body free of him. A river of spend released in his absence, joining a large, viscous puddle that had already dripped onto her down comforter.

 

She couldn’t even think to care as he arranged her useless limbs to his liking. When he hunched low between her sticky thighs and began to lick her clean with long swipes of his tongue, she only sighed.

 

“My plane,” she mumbled, so softly she couldn’t have faulted him if he didn’t hear. “My plane, from now on.”

 

She hadn’t the strength to even open her eyes, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

 

“A very good choice, indeed.”

 

Her last coherent thought was a curse aimed at the monster between her legs.

 

_Bastard._

 

* * *

 

 

_Glossary:_

 

Kylo to Rey, reprimanding her as they stand beneath the Tree of Souls. " _Ti_ _sei quasi unito a loro."_

_Italian, translates to, "You almost joined yourself with them."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breakdown of trigger-ish happenings: Rey is chased by Kylo through the woods and attempts to escape him by leaping from a sea cliff. She is NOT attempting suicide. She has no time to consider the consequences and takes a risk in a moment of desperation. 
> 
> He halts her fall and is angry she'd try something so reckless in order to escape him. They bicker and he unwillingly uses his powers to make sure she won't risk her life again. 
> 
> Resentful that he had to alter her persuasion at all, he decides to teach her a lesson and brings her to the otherworldly plain of the afterlife. There, he carries her to a Tree of Lost Souls, a purgatory of sorts for the souls of suicide victims. He binds her to the tree and rapes her before taking mercy and bringing her back to her apartment.


	6. Crystal Blue Persuasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey comes to grips with her new reality about as gracefully as one would expect. She returns to work and delivers a keynote address before being intercepted by her very own monster. Kylo makes an impression on Rose before taking his girl out for sushi. Their conversation yields illuminating details.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sadly devoid of all weird-ass kinks/triggers. Them's saved for chapter 7 ;-)

 

* * *

 

  Songspiration: [ _Be Mine_](https://youtu.be/kiMpvEZ8DJ4) /Ofenbach

 

* * *

 

Rey awoke to a knocking at her door. She sat bolt-up in bed, holding the sheet to her chest as she scanned her flat with weary eyes, but there was no sign of him.

 

“Who is it?” she called, grimacing at how hoarse her voice was. Still, she scouted for the bane of her existence, relaxing a tad as seconds ticked by without his cocky ass emerging from the bathroom. _What time was it?_

 

“Special delivery for Rey uh, Ken-- _Kena-tuh_?”

 

“Yeah, that’s me--” she ran her hand through her disheveled hair, frowning as she looked down at her naked body. There was no way she could do anything in a hurry. _How the fuck had delivery gotten into the building?_

 

“Just leave it at the door,” she snapped, feeling as irritable as she sounded. Everything hurt, and she would have murdered to go back to bed.

 

“I—I’m sorry, ma’am, I would, but I need a signature…”

 

 _Fuck!_ “Can’t you slide it under my door?” she hedged, already knowing the well-sealed frame wouldn’t allow it.

 

The voice on the other side of the door was hesitant. “Um, no, I uh--I’m terribly sorry but I actually need to see you in person, and, uh--”

 

“Alright, alright,” she groused, cutting him off. “Gimme a minute.”

 

She sat up and hoisted herself from bed, muttering obscenities directed at a certain dark-eyed demon as she hobbled to the bathroom. Her body ached like that of an eighty-year-old woman.

 

Donning her bathrobe before the mirror, she snarled at the vivid new love bites that adorned the swells of her breasts, splashing cold water on her face and chugging some from cupped hands. Maybe if she took long enough, this ill-timed delivery person would leave her in peace.

 

Walking past her bed on the way to the door, she was struck dumb by the absolutely disgusting mess that they’d--no, _he’d_ made of her beautiful goose down duvet.

 

_What in the actual* fuck*?_

 

A growl of frustration ripped from her clenched teeth. She was pretty sure that a normal human male didn’t make that big of a mess, not that she had anything to compare with... _but really??_ Her bed looked like a bloodless crime scene—utterly riddled with cum stains, including an obscenely large puddle that had spread as it soaked into the fabric.

 

By the time she reached the door, she was veritably seething. She wrenched open the handle, looking like she was ready to murder the unfortunate soul who dared disturb her.

 

The poor dude was a gangly youth no older than twenty. He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing as he stared wide-eyed at the glowering creature in the robe.

 

Her scowl lost its ferocity as she tracked up the tower of richly textured black boxes on his dolly.

 

“I didn’t order anything,” she said, squinting to read the script embossed on the boxes. _Opulence of Southern Pines_. She frowned, perplexed.

 

“Th-this order has been paid in full, ma’am, and I can guarantee that it wouldn’t have been packed and shipped if it wasn’t.” The delivery boy held out a clipboard and pen, cautiously keeping an eye out for the dragon-lady who’d first emerged at the door.

 

Still frowning, Rey signed her name. “You can leave them here,” she said, scratching the back of her neck distractedly. “I’ll bring them in myself.”

 

The kid needed no further encouragement, hastily sliding the boxes from the dolly, his mistrustful eyes darting to hers.

 

She stood in her doorway feeling unreasonably taxed as he unloaded the last box and bolted for the elevators, moving as fast as his gangly legs could carry him.

 

When he’d gone, she moved the lightweight boxes into her living room. She stood there, just staring at them as she swayed a little on her feet. It felt for all the world like she’d been hit by a Mack truck; she was achy, bone-tired, and incredibly discombobulated. _What day was it? And what was the time anyway?_ She groaned, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed and sleep for a week.

 

Locating her phone, she saw that it was-- _Tuesday?! What the holy high FUCK?!!_

 

The last time she’d checked it’d been Sunday...had she slept for forty-eight hours?! Or was it possible that time was distorted in that fucking _place-_ -

 

A shiver of dread wracked through her. _No. Let’s not go there_. Once was enough, thank-you-very-much.

 

Yet, it was with a morbid, inescapable curiosity that she opened her palm, staring at the flowing glyphs that marked her pointer finger. They were a deep, dark red, looking to be _under_ her skin rather than etched into it.

 

She was exhausted, but not so tired that she couldn’t worry about what it meant. Or be a watery semblance of pissed. None of this freakish, fucked-up game was fair.

 

Shuffling over to her bed, she tore the ruined comforter from the bed with a surge of passion. Then she fetched a glass of much-needed water and returned to sit on the edge of her mattress, staring resentfully at the fancy boxes, wanting and not wanting to know what was in them.

 

Finally, she caved, knowing she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep without knowing. Settling on the ground in a sea of finely-grained boxes, she opened them one by one, revealing several incredibly fine sheet sets and not one but _three_ feather comforters of exceptional luxury.

 

In normal circumstances, it would have been deliriously funny. Could’ve been, should’ve been. But given the implication of his gifts, the maniacal giggle that bubbled up in her throat emerged as a muffled sob that slipped through her fingers.

 

She sat there, unsure of whether to laugh or scream, but 100% certain of something else; if she ever had the chance, she’d rip him limb from limb.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rey stood at the head of a well-appointed conference room, feeling her tense muscles soften incrementally as she closed in on the 30-minute mark. Her relief grew as she drew her pitch to a close.

 

“As we’ve seen, successful formalization of the sector is going to require a multi-disciplinary effort. It will begin with larger entities such as government agencies and NGOs, but really, it will be the grass-root collaboratives and individual community leaders that will decide success.”

 

She discreetly shifted from one foot to another, regretting her earlier decision to wear the blush peep-toe Louboutins. The price for turning your foot into a work of art was steep, and she was 99% sure high heels were a torture device invented by men. On the other hand, dressing sharp for these high-priority deliveries always lent an edge, playing upon that unconscious human tendency to judge a book by its cover.

 

 _Tactics_ , she thought wryly, ignoring her discomfort as she panned the attentive faces in the crowd.

 

As she paused and turned her attention to the screen, the door at the back of the room opened to admit a latecomer. She ignored the interruption and clicked to her final slide, surreptitiously checking the lay of the scarf that wrapped about her throat as she launched into her closing remarks.

 

“As we move into the initial stages of planning, the focus should be on vetting and securing the support of community-based partners. You’ll find a new link on our website providing additional resources. As we begin implementation, we encourage you to share stories of success and the challenges that are encountered on our message board." Rey paused, forcing a smile as she struggled to maintain a confident demeanor. "We all learn from another, and through sharing, we seed a mutually beneficial community of effort.”

 

That she was so anxious to wrap this talk up and bolt was a sign of the times. Rey loved her line of work and the autonomy of being a hired gun. This was the stuff she thrived for, and she was frustrated and resentful that _he_ was having an impact on her work life.

 

Given the irreconcilable turn her life had taken and her consequent doubts for the integrity of her own sanity, it was a wonder she’d even been able to go forward with her delivery today.

 

It had been Tuesday when she’d emailed Rose, her program director-turned-friend, informing her she had the flu and would be out of commission for a few days.

 

Rose was nothing but understanding, offering her a supply drop-off and even hinting they could possibly reschedule her presentation. Rey had responded with hasty assurances that, no, she didn’t need anything, and yes, she’d be ready to deliver her keynote as planned on Friday. Her director was a complete sweetheart, and as she met Rose’s eyes, she felt a pang of guilt at the lies she’d told.

 

But really. What was she supposed to say? _Hey, Rose, I had this unfortunate mix-up with a demon...I know, what are the odds, right?! And now I’m like, I dunno, bound to him or something? And he’s been dropping in and fucking me senseless throughout the week and_ _it’s been really inconvenient and a bit of a distraction…_

 

She fought the grimace she felt, smiling radiantly as she clasped her gloved hands together and thanked everyone for their attendance. Rey would have killed to hightail it the fuck out, but as the lights came up, she coached patience and announced she’d take several questions, knowing full well it was expected.

 

After a lively discussion about the data points she’d presented and hashing through concerns, she thanked her audience a second time, making it clear that she was through. With no small sense of relief, she gathered her laptop and things, getting ready to run the gamut to reach the door.

 

As she made her way out, a member of the Peruvian delegate engaged her with several more items he wanted to discuss. She was making a valiant attempt to squash her irritation when she noticed a subtle murmuring punctuated by an occasional girlish titter at the back of the room.

 

The sound was more appropriate for that of a bar than a conference room, and Rey found herself distracted as she turned her head toward the back wall.

 

Her blood turned to ice, tightening her skin with a prickling sensation.

 

There he was, looking like a secretary’s wet dream, his flawless physique decked out in a crisp button-down tucked into charcoal-grey slacks. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up over his sculpted forearms, and he iced the image with a pair of slick black-rimmed glasses that she _knew_ he didn’t need.

 

Rey felt her knees wobble threateningly as fear made her weak. _Not here, please, no_.

 

He leaned against the back wall, watching her lazily as he made small talk with several women from her presentation. They seemed oblivious to his marked disinterest, blushing when he spared them a word, gazing up at him from under their lashes and tucking stray locks of hair behind their ears. Several other women lingered nearby like fans waiting for a close-up with their favorite celebrity...as if they just couldn’t help themselves.

 

_Probably they couldn’t._

 

A surge of bitterness arose. Such a wicked little game he played, engaging them just enough to encourage their overt flirting, all the while stripping her down, burning her casually with the latent heat of his eyes. He was ever finding ways to twist the knife in her, flaunting the interest of others when she knew full well who he was here for. When all she wanted was for any of these women to strike his fancy, freeing her from the nightmare of his attention.

 

Her stomach churned and she fought the impulse to bolt. She was vaguely aware that she was being rude to the poor fellow talking to her, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from _him_.

 

Her lips parted, brows furrowing a tad as she shook her head near imperceptibly, sending him a silent plea. Her obvious distress was met with an impudent smirk and a single nod _._

 

_Yes. Here. NOW._

 

It was hard not to want to cry as he pushed off of the wall, excusing himself from the group as he prowled gracefully through the crowd to intercept her.

 

She finally broke their eye contact, murmuring a hasty apology to her companion and begging his leave.

 

With an effort that nearly killed her, she fought her instincts and moved numbly toward him, under no illusions that there was any possible escape.

 

“Rey!” Rose popped into her line of vision, her face bright as she claimed her hand. “You killed it,” she whispered enthusiastically. “The suits were so impressed, I hope you’re ready for a major extension of your contract, because--” she broke off, suddenly noticing that her friend looked rather pale.

 

Rose stared blankly at the tattooed forearm that slid around Rey’s trim waist, her gaze traveling up the broad expanse of a chest to behold its owner.

 

Her chocolate-brown eyes widened. “Ohh, hi,” she breathed stupidly, staring at him in the exact same manner the other women had. Utterly spellbound.

 

His voice was rich and warm as he greeted them. “Ladies, you must forgive the interruption but I just couldn’t stay away.”

 

He extended his other hand to Rose, favoring her with a charming, crooked smile. “I’m Kylo, Rey’s new boy-toy,” he deadpanned, pulling Rey against him affectionately.

 

Rose took the bait, giggling at his cheekiness, completely oblivious to Rey’s distinct lack of reaction.

 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Rey muttered weakly, “game for miles…”

 

Rose tilted her head, giving her friend a comical look of outrage that said she expected Rey to fess up later. “Look at how _cute_ you two are together!” she gushed, beaming at them with all the subtlety of a smitten high schooler.

 

The lack of her characteristic shrewdness was galling, and Rey fought off the sinking sense of dismay at the effect he had on everyone. _Everyone but her._

 

Rose continued, totally hoodwinked and oblivious of her misery. “Rey, I’m so happy you found someone!”

 

She leaned toward Kylo, smiling at him with stars in her eyes. “I’ve never seen Rey with a beau before. She’s a discerning customer,” Rose said, her voice lowering into a conspiratorial whisper as she waggled her brows. “You must be doing _something_ right.”

 

He smirked back at Rose, his hand subtly rubbing up and down the curve of Rey's waist. “Oh, believe me, I had to chase her _relentlessly_ before she tried me on for size,” he murmured, his eyes sparkling like those of a willful child.

 

Rey’s eyes closed as her hand tightened into a fist, taking a handful of his shirt in a vise. _You didn’t just say that you *fucking asshole*._ They snapped open and she expelled her breath in a soft hiss. “Rose, would you excuse us for a moment?” she managed, smiling woodenly.

 

“Why, of course! Call me later, and really, Rey, amazing work today,” said Rose, retreating a few steps. “Kylo, it was just fabulous meeting you. Take care of my girl and I’m sure I’ll see you around more often.”

 

“Affirmative on both fronts,” he replied smoothly, giving Rose a captivating smile as she departed, leaving them standing together in the still-crowded conference room.

 

Then he was leaning down to speak in her ear, his dulcet voice just above a whisper. “Fuck, you’re delicious,” he swore, lifting one of her gloved hands, stroking a thumb over the supple material. “How dare you wear such an enticing outfit in public?” he scolded playfully.

 

She looked down the length of her body, seeing only a well-tailored, office-appropriate blouse and skirt.

 

“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you, _right now?_ ” he continued, his hand tightening at her waist, jerking her tightly against him.

 

A whimper of dread formed in her throat as she felt the hardness of his cock pressing against her pubic bone, closer to the mark thanks to the four-inch lift of her heels.

 

By some unknown grace, she found the strength to look him in the eye. “Anywhere else,” she said, her voice strained and urgent. “Please, don’t do this to me in front of my colleagues, _please_.”

 

He chuckled, spinning her lightly in a half-circle, as though they were alone rather than in the middle of an executive boardroom. She fought the urge to push him away as his lips pressed a soft, discrete kiss below her ear.

 

“What color are your panties?” he asked, ignoring her low, impassioned plea.

 

She looked away, unable to suppress a twitch of frustration. “What _the fuck_ does that have to do with anything?” she hissed quietly.

 

He was silent long enough to force her hand, and she looked back up to his face, fearful she’d overstepped.

 

His dark eyes stared down at her, fathomless but for the faint kindle of mischief. “Maybe everything, maybe nothing.”

 

Gripping her hand, he stepped back from her, holding her arm aloft as his eyes again raked down her body, taking in the feminine silk blouse and heather gray pencil skirt she wore.

 

“But if they’re black,” he warned, “I’ll do something _unspeakable._ ”

 

“Pink!” she blurted, “they’re pink.”

 

A small, triumphant smile curled about his lips as he pulled her back into his arms.

 

His behavior was shameless, and Rey peeked over his shoulder, expecting the whole room to be staring. Somehow, they weren’t, still talking in little groups that had begun to disperse.

 

“Pink,” he mused thoughtfully, his hands whispering over her hips, stroking lightly as if he were trying to get a feel for what lay underneath her skirt. “What kind of pink? Describe it to me. Fuchsia, or champagne, orchid or cotton candy? Are they _saturated_ or _demure?_ ”

 

He had a way of enunciating his words that was crafty and so calculating. She was beginning to realize that speech was just another weapon of his, and that he relished the many ways he could leverage it against her.

 

She shivered, half from the feel of his massive body and half out of the agony of suspense.

 

“Pale,” she replied in a hoarse whisper, “blush pink...like my shoes.”

 

He groaned emotively against her ear, and she was mortified to feel her nipples tingle in response to the sound, her body reacting to the sordid images it conjured.

 

She exhaled the dismay, her brows furrowing as she hung her head.

 

“Ah, yes,” he mused, tipping her chin up, appraising her as he would a fine object. “Like the break of dawn; that gentle flush, so hopeful and effervescent.”

 

She blinked up at him, momentarily captured by the beauty of his face and words he spoke.

 

He released her and stepped back, gazing into her eyes, his stare both penetrating and intimate. “‘My plane, not yours,’ she says. ‘Anywhere but here,’ she says…” he shook his head disapprovingly as the teasing little smile slipped from his generous mouth. “My, but I am accommodating of your demands.”  

 

Chills of dread ran her skin in icy rivulets as that ominous red flashed in his eyes.

 

“The road goes both ways,” he said warningly, “you _will_ remember my generosity when I demand something of you...won’t you, little vixen?”

 

The quiet threat in his tone was clear. Her eyes were wet as she forced a jerky nod. “Yes,” she added in a husky voice, sure that only a verbal agreement would satisfy.

 

His amusement returned like the sun breaking free of a storm cloud, and he savored her struggle a moment before delivering the relief she so desperately sought.

 

“Very well. I had planned on taking you to lunch to celebrate…” His eyes drifted up her body to meet hers, and the dangerous thing that lurked beneath his suave exterior flashed its teeth.

 

“I suppose ravishing you could wait until then,” he murmured darkly.

 

She didn’t so much as flinch, entirely willing to cut her losses elsewhere. The tension she’d felt earlier had returned tenfold and her muscles were rigid as a day-old corpse. Without a word, she clasped his arm and let him lead her from the room, trying to brace for the possibility that he might break his word.

 

_He was, as he’d so horribly proven, a demon._

 

* * *

 

 

The shocks to her heart kept coming, and she didn’t know how much more she could take.

 

Her light grasp had restructured into a claw on his bicep when he led her to the Maserati Alfieri that sat at the curb, glorious and sleek as sugared sin. How badly she wanted to stalk its voluptuous, low-slung curves, to pop the hood and drool over the engine that lurked like a leashed tiger, to _beg him_ to let her drive it...but she’d be double-damned if she gave him such satisfaction.

 

_Why, oh why couldn’t he just be a normal, human, rich-as-fuck, non-satanic boyfriend?_

 

With an exceptional will of effort, she gagged her inner torque-loving fangirl on behalf of what dignity she still managed to retain. His hand rested at the small of her back as he ushered her to the passenger side and opened the door for her, giving the appearance of a doting partner.

 

It didn’t even register as she slid onto buttery leather the color of dried blood, biting her lip to stifle a moan.

 

He paused a moment, smoldering down at her as he lounged against the door. “You like fast machines, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and the hint of smugness in his voice won him a silent, resentful glare.

 

She did her best to ignore his lithe little chuckle as he closed the door, focusing instead on the smooth _whirring_ of the seatbelt sliding over her lap, running wondering fingers over the detailed stitching of her seat.

 

While he circled around to the driver’s side, she discreetly cased the interior details, drinking in the polished console and sleek silver-trimmed dash. The nicest car she’d ever ridden in was a Porsche, and it didn’t even come in a close second to this sexy beast.

 

Her heart beat with an enthusiasm she tried to temper as he folded himself into the driver's seat and fired the engine. His cocky smirk told her he knew, _the bastard_.

 

“It’s just a cheap thrill is all,” she shot defensively.

 

“Keep telling yourself,” he drawled, peeling out with a scream of abused rubber, causing her stomach to drop deliciously as her back instantly molded to the seat.

 

He drove like the monster he was, aggressive and confident as he tore out of Belltown, leaving her breathless. Every road rule was broken, treated as if they didn’t apply to him. He darted through traffic like a stealthy black needle, only half-paying attention to the road as he moved them effortlessly from one open space to the next.

 

Cars in the path of his trajectory didn’t react with the justified panic they should have, and it was telling. The intolerance of city drivers was legendary. If they’d been aware of a fraction of his antics there would have been blaring horns, crashing vehicles and general mayhem left in their wake. After several tense minutes of clinging white-knuckled to her seat, Rey relaxed, drawing confidence from the way he handled the car and the lack of upset around them.

 

One massive hand stroked the length of her thigh, causing her to tense up all over again.

 

“So sorry I’ve been kept away from you darling,” he murmured, giving her sincere looks with his large, dark eyes. “My services have been rather in demand this week, and I regret how little time I’ve been able to afford you.”

 

Rey bridled at the way he spoke to her--as if they were a loving couple with busy working lives.

 

“Your... _services_?” she asked, turning to peer at him skeptically. A sharp, bitter laugh escaped her. “I’m not sure I should ask you to clarify exactly what _those_ are…”

 

“Now, now,” he chided, “you’d be surprised how similar our jobs actually are. I too deal in the molding of international opinion, although I should confess that the outcomes we seek are decidedly different.”

 

“No doubt,” she bit out, though her sarcasm sounded flimsy in her own ears. She stared out the window, debating with herself before turning to face him. “And who exactly is it demanding your services? Satan, I suppose?”

 

His pupils winked fire as he turned to her with a brittle smile that froze the marrow of her bones. “After a fashion,” he replied, his eyes wandering her face as the vehicle maneuvered itself expertly through the city. She felt him considering her, weighing his words before speaking.

 

“Satan is a contrivance of Christianity, a figure on which religious zealots can blame their baser nature or the misfortunes that befall them. The one I serve is so much more than a convenient scapegoat for the vices of weak-minded mortals. However, for the sake of ease, I think it’s safe for you to consider them one and the same.”

 

The breath left her lungs in a whoosh and she realized she’d been holding it. For once, she was bereft of anything wise to say. She wanted to mock him so badly, to deride and deny the terrifying things he said, therefore rejecting the implications. Instead, her refute lie stillborn, frozen in the fell light of all she’d seen and been subjected to. The Pandora’s box, once barely cracked, was now thrown wide open.

 

Angst was a live wire within her as she faced the evidence that backed his claims; there existed supernatural elements that could affect the real world in tangible ways. _The club. The park. The Tree of Souls. Her apartment._

 

Almost unconsciously, she found herself looking down at her hand. The taut fabric of her glove crinkled as she flexed her index finger, feeling the ache of the brand hidden just beneath.

 

“So, then, what is his name?” she asked, her voice a hollow whisper.

 

“His name is best left unsaid, unless, of course, you’d care to meet him?” he asked, giving her an inquiring side glance. He smiled when she shook her head hastily, her eyes wide. “Suffice to know; he is the Lord of the Fallen and Keeper of Darkness. I carry out his aims and serve him to the best of my abilities.”

 

Rey felt dazed, the gorgeous vehicle in which she sat meaningless and forgotten. _The Devil existed. He and his forces actively worked amongst the doings of humans. Demons were real. She was bound in unknown ways to one._ A sob bubbled halfway up her throat only to shrivel into nothingness.

 

With an abrupt spin of the steering wheel, he pulled into a curbside spot clearly marked, “no parking.” He kept his silence as he killed the engine and slid from the car.

 

She stared blearily through the windshield, trying and failing to keep up with the rearranging of reality. Their location was lost on her. She had no idea where they were in the city, that detail becoming irrelevant during what easily qualified as the craziest conversation of her entire life.

 

A final question pressed at her lips, begging to be answered as she shifted against the soft leather of her seat.

 

He opened her car door and she numbly accepted the hand he offered.

 

Her voice was quiet, childlike. “Your...abilities,” she said, breaking off as she was pulled to her feet.

 

He hemmed her in between the door well and his body, keeping her flush against him with one massive palm as he stared her down. “You already know,” he purred, his hand bold as it slid down to cup the globe of her ass, yanking her hips against his with a quick jerk.

 

“What have I been doing Rey?” he taunted, lips skimming the angle of her cheekbone.

 

Her brows knit tightly as fear and self-pity mingled in a potent, unwanted cocktail. “Hunting me,” she answered mechanically, staring over his shoulder at the climb of steel and glass across the street.

 

“Indeed I have,” he murmured, pulling the back of her hand up to his lips in a parody of chivalry. His eyes were alive and endlessly dark, drawing her unwilling stare. “And?”

 

She swallowed, determined not to shy away from it this time. “You’ve been fucking me,” she choked out.

 

“Mmmm,” he hummed appreciatively, biting lightly at her gloved finger. “With more pleasure than you’ll ever know. What else?”

 

She felt weak as she watched those sharp white teeth nipping at her, her heart speeding uncomfortably. “Y--you’ve stopped time--”

 

“There,” he interrupted, laying a disturbingly large pointer finger lightly upon her lips. “There it is, but on a broader scale.” His voice lowered, each word branding indelibly into her mind. “Time, places, things, and people all bow to my will. Mine is the power of persuasion...and it is absolute.”

 

Her eyes blinked rapidly as her brain stalled on that one meaningful word.  _Persuasion._  Then came the fallout as the pieces fell into place, completing the puzzle that had become her waking nightmare.People obeying. Music stopping. Her falling body halted in mid-air. The effect he had on all those women. Rose, shrewd Rose, her eyes sparkling like a smitten teenager.

 

His angry words from the forest breezed through her mind with their full meaning revealed. _“I have no desire to alter your persuasion.”_

 

Her mouth opened but nothing came out. She shook her head faintly, as if apologizing for her wordlessness.

 

His eyes were suddenly soft, so soft and dark. “I could tell you to love me, and that would be all it would take.” He caressed her upturned face as he dipped to nibble delicately at her quivering lips, treating her fear like a confection. “I meant what I said to you in the forest. You’re perfect the way you are, and I won’t change a thing if I can help it. That's about as good a vow as you’ll ever get from me.”

 

He drew back, keeping her hostage as he pivoted her and shut the car door. The city around her swam, reality distorted by the impossibility of his existence, the fact that he was here, radiating heat as he pressed her against the car. The last question she’d wanted to ask was silenced by the look he leveled at her, the build of his hunger as threatening as an electrical storm on the open plains.

 

She could hear it in his voice, the low fanaticism and a conviction so ironclad, she had no shield or recourse to match it.

 

His eyes flashed, molten pools of living heat. “Never have I been denied with such fierce resolution,” he murmured.

 

She cringed, knowing he’d meant it as a compliment.

 

“You resist the effect of my touch like you were born to do it, and that is the finest nectar in all the galaxy.” He paused, smirking blackly as his voice became quiet, each word succinct. “Oh, I could easily give the command and get plenty of fight… but therein lies the beauty, the pricelessness of what you gift me.”

 

She shifted against him in mute shock, unable to look away as he continued to illuminate every horrible, captivating detail surrounding her fate.

 

“Over the eons, I’ve never had need of my abilities; my presence alone is enough to turn the chaste willing.” Something predatory kindled in his expression and she quailed.

 

“But you have something in you--something _special_ ,” he continued, “a foundation that is impervious to my charm. That mettle is what drew me to you that night—your unflinching ability to resist, the strength of your will to escape.”

 

The words were rushing from him now, overtaking her mind like a boreal tide.

 

“I kissed you in that club and felt you respond, but instead of succumbing like all the rest, you _fought it!”_ he exclaimed, seizing her face in one hand and drawing close to press her against the car yet again. She whimpered helplessly, pliant in the heat of his intensity, suddenly afraid she might be taken right then and there.

 

“You managed to do the impossible. Fought me off not once but _twice_ ,” he hissed, his eyes glowing with firelight, “you, a mere mortal who should have been writhing on my cock from the first, begging me for more of whatever I wanted to give. You were so fucking perfect that when I first caught the clean scent of your ripe little pussy, I thought there was no way.”

 

He released her face and took steps to realize her fears, one hand slipping down her throat to cup her breast as the other claimed her ass with a possessive squeeze.

 

“Never would I have guessed you a virgin. It was too good to be true.”

 

Rey’s heart plummeted as she remembered, her panties awash in illicit warmth. His tone now lowered, becoming a breathy growl as his massive hands began to rub and knead at her erogenous zones.

 

“That you could resist me, that your body was untouched was treat enough...but then came the most brilliant stroke of fortune ever to befall one of my kind.” He paused, the fanatical light in his eyes tempered with a look of wonder that made her sick to her stomach. “You bound yourself to me in blood,” he continued breathily, “a pure soul, mine forever. _”_

 

She was about to deny him when he crushed his lips to hers and nudged her mouth open, sweeping his tongue against hers so expertly, she could only receive him. It was the kiss from the club all over again--positively dismantling her resistance with otherworldly pleasure. A tear slipped from her eye as he plundered the cavern of her mouth, taking and taking in rapturous delight, merciless until she whimpered low in her throat with the need to breathe.

 

His hands were doing wonderful, unspeakable things and his lips were a thief--making her forget everything--where they were, what their purpose was, what happened before. There was only him and his mouth, overwhelming her as he demanded she give him _everything_.

 

She whimpered, a broken, tortured sound that he devoured, strengthening his onslaught with a growl.

 

Spinning. She was spinning as her hands fisted in his shirt, trying to push him away even as her traitorous hips ground unconsciously against his marvelous cock.

 

 _You want this,_ came his voice in her head, and there was no justice in the world, for she _did_. Her hands had utterly failed, relaxing against the planes of his chest as the enticement of his body dawned on her. She moaned, supplicant against him as her lips slid willingly over his, the beginning of the end. _Right here, pressed against his sexy car, in the light of day on S. Main street._

 

All at once he let up, releasing her lips and leaving her panting in a fog of desire. Her perception was hazy but she saw the way he mirrored her pained expression. For all that he seemed affected, he recovered far quicker than she, straightening her clothes and smirking as he took in her glazed eyes and flushed lips. “So beautiful,” he murmured, being sure to stealthily graze a finger over a pebbled nipple, inconspicuous after that blatant show of dominance.

 

In a daze, she took the arm he offered, her legs shivering like those of a newborn fawn. She felt _way_ too out-of-control of the entire situation. Her panties were positively swimming with arousal, and she swallowed painfully as desire greyed and confliction set in, swiftly followed by guilt. He led her toward a red door inset in an alcove, its glass etched with the word, _Tsukushinbo_.

 

With every step, she could feel her labia slide enticingly against her swollen clit. It was indecent, all of it, and suddenly, she wanted to cry.

 

He glanced down at her with a cunning smile.

 

“Come, little girl,” he said, “I’ve worked up _quite_ an appetite.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random note: When researching posh bedding, my mortal ass stumbled upon _Opulence of Southern Pines._ I had to pause, fumbling for mine own lower jaw which had fallen and couldn't get up. LOL Get a load of this [17k feather duvet](https://www.opulenceofsouthernpines.com/sferra-utopia-eiderdown-heavy-weight-duvet.html) ...jeez :O


	7. ...and make it hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo takes Rey to his favorite Seattle sushi restaurant. When dining with an Archdemon, deviousness is ever the main course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Eyes heavens sheepishly* Where do I begin?
> 
>  **Trigger Warning.** This chapter contains ruthless smut of the worst sort. I shit you not. Skip to notes at the close for the trigger-y stuff and slight spoilers. Allusions also given above in the updated tags.
> 
> I had a great convo with a fellow writer about preconceptions on ethnicity and the trouble it can get unwitting fanfic writers into. It got my wheels turning and I thought it couldn't hurt to include a note to my readers: This chapter takes place in a Japanese restaurant run by an Itamae, or master sushi chef. I have done my best to describe everything depicted, including mannerisms, speech, decor, translations, food, etc. with tact and accuracy. That being said, I am not an expert and my inbox is open if you see something you deem offensive or inaccurate. 
> 
> I hail from Hawaii where I soaked in many different Pacific-rim traditions, cultures, (and foods, omg). Some of my headcanon is drawn from memory and my own experiences growing up. However, I am only human and make mistakes. Help a sister out and let me know if something don't fly! 
> 
> I got nothing but love, respect and an armload of Reylo smut for ya.

 

 

 

 _Songspiration:_  

[Blue Orchid,](https://youtu.be/jW8UlrtcEac) The White Stripes

[Surrender, Green Ice Mix,](https://youtu.be/StvtgWVpvMY) Trafik (feat Rachel Lamb)

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

_*All translations are provided in a glossary at the chapter's close_

 

 

* * *

 

**Chapter 7**

 

 

 

Words swam about on a sea of disorientation, vital, yet difficult to grasp. 

 

_...you resist the effect of my touch..._

 

She reached for the words, bits of phrases, trying to piece them together into something comprehensible as her body was moved along.

 

_...bound yourself to me in blood..._

 

His tall, dark presence loomed next to her, providing physical support--warm, solid, _perilous_. She paid him no mind, her need to make sense of the unanchored words taking precedence.

 

Words he'd spoken before her ability to reason had been taken away. 

 

_...the pricelessness of what you gift me..._

 

A door was opened for her and she was guided into a humble but well-appointed restaurant, just eight lacquered black tables and a small bar that fronted a cold case filled with cuts of fish. Time started, the change of environment just enough to distract her from her futile attempts to understand all that he'd just revealed.

 

Rey took in her new surroundings with glassy eyes, her mind dully registering the fact that they were the only customers.

 

A trim, middle-aged Japanese man emerged from behind the bar with a young man in tow. The proprietor greeted them with the traditional welcome. "Irasshaimase,” he said, making eye contact and giving a short, stiff bow to each of them in turn.

 

“Konichiwa, Toma-san,” Kylo replied, inclining his head and shoulders.

 

“You must be Kylo Ren,” the man replied, his accent thick. "We are honored to have you. This is my apprentice, Kenji, who will be assisting me today." He gestured to the seating with a second short bow. “Please, sit where you are most comfortable.”

 

The demon patted her gloved hand absently as he led her to a padded bench seat built into the back wall and guided her into a sitting position, as though she were drunk and couldn't be trusted to accomplish the feat without assistance. 

 

She didn't even take offense. That sense of drifting unanchored still possessed her, and everything felt surreal.

 

Her eyes drifted to her lap, her daze not enough to shield her from the slippery warmth contained within her panties. She clenched her thighs tight, childishly wishing it wasn't so. Pangs of mortification zipped like pulses of electricity on a faulty wire, unable to fully power the engine of her mind, but uncomfortable nonetheless.

 

Her tormentor, meanwhile, had settled himself in a chair opposite her, moving with a fluid, measured grace that didn’t match his height and stature. 

 

The chef had dismissed his apprentice and now moved to deliver a ceramic tea set, providing her with a fleeting distraction. In this state of mind, it was difficult to be a keen judge of anything, but Rey thought offhandedly that the man looked tense. His body rigid, he kept his eyes glued to his little notepad as he took their order, his unobtrusive manner straying perilously close to discomfort. 

 

 _You and me both,_ she thought, coming back to herself just a little. Her bleary gaze wandered to the bamboo forest scene painted on a set of shoji screens as Kylo ordered for them in proficient Japanese. She recognized several terms, but most of it was lost on her. Then he said something to the man in plain English that fully woke her attention.

 

“Toma-san. It’s high time I confess. Today we come to test your venerated skill.”

 

Rey shifted her eyes to the fellow in time to see his skin grow a shade paler. He locked eyes with Kylo in a long, unblinking stare, reminding Rey of a deer caught in the headlights.

 

_Goddamnit. What the hell does that mean?_

 

Her brows furrowed in alarm as she looked back and forth between the two, trying to suss out what was happening. A pooling darkness grew around Kylo, and she blinked a few times to make sure she was seeing properly. The effect only grew, and Rey could feel something invisible mounting between the chef and her captor.

 

Her stomach dropped as she watched the spectacle unfold, a living shadow that swirled and condensed, playing hypnotically about Kylo’s features. His eyes were dark and endless, holding the proprietor hostage. All the air drained from Rey's lungs a sympathetic huff.

 

Still, it was mesmerizing, and she couldn’t look away as the man’s face grew reverential, his eyes becoming visibly moist as he returned the demon’s stare.

 

In a moment of clarity, it dawned on her. _This is what he does...what he did to me after I made that leap..._

 

Hairs arose on the back of her neck and her vision sharpened, honing in on tiny details as she bore witness to the abilities of which he’d spoken. She blinked, tearing her eyes from Kylo to see that the chef looked to be on the verge of ecstatic tears.

 

Her captor’s voice was like dark velvet, warm and resonant as his words enveloped the man before him. “Anata no geijutsu wa kanzen ni jikkō sa remasu. Erā wa arimasen.”

 

He paused, waiting as Toma repeated the command in English. “My art will be perfectly executed. There will be no errors.”

 

Slowly, the mysterious shadow cleared from Kylo’s visage.

 

Toma stood in place, his limbs loose, his face the picture of serenity.

 

Air returned to Rey’s lungs and she swallowed nervously, still watching the chef with no small amount of dread.

 

The corner of Kylo’s mouth quirked mischievously as he redirected his half-lidded stare to her. “We’ll have the torafugu, _and_ _make it hot._ ”

 

Very clearly, she saw life return to Toma’s eyes as he registered Kylo’s words. They darted furtively to hers, lingering before he gave a short incline of his head. "Hai," he murmured, turning to head for the kitchen.

 

Rey felt her heart sink, well-aware that he had something planned for her, and that it wasn’t good. _Fuck._ She fidgeted as that now-familiar knot of dread grew in her stomach. There was no way she’d be able to eat anything in his harrowing presence.

 

He scrutinized her as warm sake was delivered, catching the server before he departed to quietly order one more thing.

 

Turning back, his intense stare once again settled upon her, utterly languid where he sat dwarfing his chair. She continued her nervous fidgeting, pausing when he directed a pointed look at her hands. “The gloves you wear,” he began, “are you afraid that people will see my brand?”

 

“Is that what it is?” she asked, her tone weakly venomous as she tried a sip of the sake. It was smooth and warm and altogether pleasant. Her eyes flashed to him. “Yes,” she spat, “it’s hideous, and _I hate it!_ ”

 

He sipped his sake in a civilized way that was somehow infuriating. _The least this fucker could do is comport himself like the monster he is._ She snapped her mouth shut and followed suit, chasing an unfamiliar warmth as the alcohol spread soothing fingers through her muscles.

 

“Mortal eyes can’t see it,” he remarked, looking up with a polite smile as the young man returned with another drink. A ceramic tumbler was set before her, the server nodding hastily before heading back through the split curtain that lead to the kitchen.

 

She stared at the new offering a moment before looking up at him with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.

 

“Shochu iichiko,” he said by way of explanation, “a little stronger--if you feel you need it.”

 

His half-smile needled her, but she raised the tumbler and cautiously tried the beverage anyway. It smelled of grain and burned fiercely on the way down. She grimaced, preferring the benign rice taste of the sake.

 

“As I was saying,” he continued, “no one will be able to see the mark of my ownership but you and I, and those to whom it really counts.”

 

 _Ownership_. She repressed the itch to throw something at him with another good slug of sake. “Those being…?” she asked waspishly.

 

“Others of my kind,” he replied, smiling good-naturedly, acknowledging the way she paled with obvious pleasure. “What, did you think I was the only one?”

 

“One could only fucking hope!” she blurted loudly, her eyes wide. “More?” she squeaked, her voice getting higher as she panicked. “How _many_ more?” 

 

He laughed, ever-amused by her distress. “I'll inform you that, aside from our Lord, there are several Archfiends of my stature and many lesser demons such as the Hellcniht I lead."

 

His finger stroked idle circles around the rim of his glass, tracing it as he watched the reactions play over her face. "But it needn't concern you," he casually added, well-aware that soothing her was well outside the suite of his abilities. "You, my dear, are protected by the power of my name. Our bond is unbreakable, and my claim leaves you impervious to the designs of my kind.”

 

His eyes flashed their red hazard at her. “Only I may touch you,” he intoned.

 

She opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by the arrival of the chef's apprentice bearing several dishes. Kenji kept his eyes on his task, saying nothing as he unloaded his tray with hands that finely trembled, placing the elegant ceramic dishes before them. When he'd finished, he murmured a hasty, “douzo meshiagare,” and hurried off, leaving them alone again.

 

Frustration bubbled up in her as she glanced over the spread before her; the last thing she wanted to do right now was eat. “What do you want from me?” she moaned, hating the slight whine on her voice as she yanked her gloves off jerkily and slapped them down on the bench. Comporting herself some, she leaned toward him, meeting his eyes pleadingly as she made her case. “I can’t stand not knowing. This is my fucking _life_ , Kylo, and it may not mean anything to you, but it’s all I’ve got. At least give me some understanding of what I can expect--  _please!_ ”

 

Not an ounce of mercy was in him, and she should have known.

 

“What you can expect? Of me, you mean?” His lip quirked a little. “Hmmm...”

 

He cocked his head, narrowing his eyes as he pretended to think about it. “You can expect--what is the charming term you people use?--ah yes, that's right...you can expect to be fucked six ways from Sunday, whenever I have the time to spare.”

 

Her muscles went rigid as a board. “You’re such a fucking monster,” she seethed, pretty sure he was serious.

 

He methodically dipped a bite of ahi and raised it to his mouth. His eyes winked red again as he chewed meditatively. “You have no idea,” he replied with a lazy smirk. “Now come here and have a bite of this delicious food. I insist.” He pushed back his chair and patted a broad thigh.

 

Fury was alive within her, spitting and hissing, demanding she let it out. “There is. No. Fucking. Way,” she snapped, biting each word out.

 

He sighed, his shoulders slumping like a defeated boyfriend...then his gaze darkened as he placed both tattooed forearms on the table, leaning forward to pin her with an expression that meant _fucking trouble_.

 

His voice slithered the length of the table, low and threatening. “I’ve been _terribly generous_ with you. Don’t make me regret it, Rey, because there’s always tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. You’ll be had again and again, and on the rare occasion, like today, that I give you _any_ leeway in where or how you get fucked, you’d do well to show me how grateful you are.”

 

His eyes pierced her like twin daggers, and he didn’t smile. “Now get that tight ass over here and sit like a good little girl.”

 

Her face had paled as he spoke. Standing shakily, she tipped her head up defiantly as she looked down at the demon seated before her. His threatening visage swam out of focus as she entertained madness. _Slip out of your heels and bolt. Reach for that door and fly through it--move as you’ve never moved before, like you have a pack of rabid hellhounds breathing down your back_ \--

 

The fantasy of escape died as his voice echoed in her mind, taunting and cruel. _Do it, Rey. Do it and see what happens._

 

Her eye caught the stronger alcohol he’d ordered on her behalf, and she seized it, quickly knocking it back before crossing the short distance. Defeat was getting familiar as she numbly settled on the bench of his thigh.

 

The heat of his hand was easily felt through the thin silk of her blouse. She swallowed a little sob at the way he rubbed the small of her back, deceptively gentle for the moment. “There, now. This isn’t so bad, is it,” he coaxed.  

 

She favored him with a look of watery skepticism. No way would he ever get service with a smile, not while her mind was her own.

 

He was unperturbed, one hand holding her possessively close as he pulled the dishes nearer. “Do you know,” he said conversationally, wielding his chopsticks one-handed as he selected a pink cube of poké, “that I have brought you for the finest sushi in all of Seattle?” She remained silent and he continued. “I can say with complete confidence that Toma-san’s skill and the freshness of his ingredients set the bar. Come now, and try a taste,” he coaxed, holding the bite near her mouth.

 

She hesitated a beat before leaning forward and nervously accepting his offering. He was gentle and some of her fear ebbed as she chewed the tender morsel. Rey enjoyed sushi well enough, though she wasn’t a straight-up Japanophile like some people she knew. She could openly admit, though, that she’d never had anything so good. The fish was firm and delectable, and whatever it had been marinated in was addictively flavorful.

 

She licked her lips without meaning to and was rewarded with another bite before he moved on to the golden-battered karaage.

 

Again, she was fed morsels of an exquisitely tender whitefish, the crunchy tempura balanced by the bright, citrusy ponzu. She couldn't help it; a small moan of appreciation slipped out when he fed her a second, and then a third bite. All the while he was silent, apparently satisfied as he watched her eat.

 

He moved on to the agedashi, retrieving a piece of tofu and some of the shredded daikon and ginger that topped it. The tender little cube swam in broth, and a droplet of dashi slipped from the corner of her mouth as she took the bite from him.

 

Before she could reach for a napkin, his hands were on her, turning her head to meet the swipe of his tongue. He did it slowly, licking up toward her frozen lips, nibbling a little at the corner of her mouth.

 

Slowly he pulled away, his gaze dark as he watched her begin to chew the bite that had paused in her mouth. He waited patiently until she’d swallowed before asking his question. "Leave the snark at the door and tell me. What do you think?"

 

“It’s delicious,” she replied instantly. “It’s delicious, and you’re horrible.” 

 

She didn't know if it was the matter-of-fact way she said it, or just that she'd said it at all. Whatever the case, something in her statement really got him. His laughter rang out through the empty room, head tipped back in utter delight.

 

She grimaced sourly, wishing she could enact the very strong urge to hit him, but too afraid to provoke his ire. "Such an asshole..." she muttered, looking away.

 

When he sobered, his spirits were high, hands beginning to roam in a way that promised trouble.

 

“You make it fun to be horrible,” he purred, his eyes sparkling as they followed the path his hands made over her body. “You make me want to do worse,” he added, tugging at the soft cashmere scarf she’d wound about her throat in an effort to hide the fading marks he’d left her with.

 

She held herself stiffly, determined to embrace martyrdom and accept her fate with some kind of dignity. Anything to prevent deeper atrocity.

 

Her scarf slithered into her lap, tugged by an insistent hand. His voice was softer as he turned her head this way and that, critically examining the state of his handiwork. “My, my, but you bruise so well…” he mused, half to himself and half to her.

 

Her breath, which she’d been holding, escaped her lips in an exasperated hiss as she jerked her chin from his grasp. She glowered at him. “In-fucking-deed, asshole. It’s been a goddamn pain-in-the-ass all bloody week,” she snapped, feeling sorely tested as he continued to caress her throat, undeterred.

 

“I’ll have to get you some _dit da jao_ ,” he murmured, as if she was supposed to know what that was.

 

A hiss of exasperation escaped her lips. She'd been pushed to the brink and about to say something stupid when Toma emerged in dramatic fashion from the kitchen, the curtains billowing as he passed through with Kenji in tow. He bore himself with dignity, carrying the wooden tray in a way that suggested it contained something of great worth. The fact that both men accompanied the dish spoke volumes.

 

Her stomach knotted at the scandalous sight they must make--she, perched atop his thigh like a lovesick teenager whilst he openly caressed her body. She stared at the blush-pink tips of her shoes, trying not to think about it as the younger man cleared their table and refilled their sake in nervous silence.

 

Rey knew that the Japanese were renowned for their appreciation of understated simplicity, humility and perfection rather than their flair for the dramatic. So when Toma placed the wide ceramic plate before them with a definitive flourish and bowed deeply, Rey's brows quirked up.

 

She peered at the esteemed offering, her embarrassment momentarily forgotten. It appeared to be some sort of meat, fish very likely, cut into sharp-edged petals and artfully spread to look like a chrysanthemum. The pale, milky slices were cut paper-thin, and she could clearly see the hand-painted indigo design of the exquisite platter underneath. Even the accouterments were exceptionally beautiful. There were edible flowers, sprouts, daikon, and sudachi citrus.

 

It occurred suddenly that Kylo had paid the showy dish and its presentation no heed, his attention instead fixed unwaveringly upon the sushi chef.

 

The seconds ticked by in silence as Toma awaited his patron’s approval, each one increasing Rey's urge to squirm.

 

Keeping one hand wrapped securely around her waist, Kylo again retrieved his chopsticks and nimbly lifted a translucent slice, offering to the chef.

 

The whole affair had a ceremonious feel to it, and Rey was baffled as the man stepped closer and accepted the bite that Kylo offered him. She saw that his forehead shone with pinpricks of sweat as he chewed and swallowed, maintaining direct eye contact with Kylo the whole time. 

 

The young apprentice stood a respectful step back and side of the chef, his eyes trained on the ground but for the occasional pensive glance he shot his superior.

 

The charge in the air affected all but her captor, who coolly watched the man before them, waiting. He was perfectly still where he sat, a statue that casually held her captive on his thigh.

 

At long last, he spoke. “Dōdesu ka, Toma-san?” he inquired quietly.

 

Rey felt the heft behind his words, a sense of weighty expectation that was palpable even if she didn’t understand them.

 

“Watashi wa shibirete imasu,” the chef replied, his response hushed. “Sore wa chōdo īdesu.”

 

The shadow of a smile played about Kylo’s lips, and Rey felt weak.

 

“Very good, Toma-san,” he praised. “We thank you for your art and exceptional hospitality.”

 

The chef betrayed a hint of relief as he was dismissed. He bowed, turning to Rey briefly before departing. “Please. Forgive my humble fare, miss,” he murmured, meeting her eyes with a dark, sorrowful look. Then he turned and departed, his apprentice practically running at his heels.

 

She turned to look at Kylo, who was nonchalantly squeezing a small halved citrus over the sashimi.

 

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” she asked wearily, afraid of his answer.

 

Her heart sank as she saw a pattern emerging. Her demon was a blight, rife with dark surprises and unpleasantries she’d rather not know...but would be subjected to regardless of her wishes. It dragged at her like a ball and chain and she let out a long sigh, deciding in that moment that martyrdom totally sucked.

 

By then, Kylo had claimed two of the delicate slices along with several sunflower sprouts and dipped them in ponzu.

 

“It is customary for a fugu chef to sample his own wares as an assurance of the steadiness of his hand, the precision of his cut,” he said by way of explanation. He took the first bite, gazing at her with an intensely she found unnerving. It made her heart skip along spastically, trying to stay abreast of the churning sea of her fear and helplessness.

 

“Mmm-mmm,” he hummed, closing his eyes in pleasure as he chewed.

 

It was a sensual sound, one that stirred memories she’d just as soon forget, a baritone purr that raised goosebumps over her skin.

 

“A delicacy worth the wait,” he pronounced crisply, fetching a piece of fish and swiping it through the sauce before topping it with ginger and an edible flower. He held it within range of her mouth, waiting. “A perfect bite, for my perfect girl.”

 

Her core was a ball of nerves as she accepted his offering, plagued by a sense of déjà vu. She chewed cautiously, finding the delicate slice rather tasteless short of the nip of ginger and the citrusy ponzu sauce. Her eyes followed him as he ate two more bites of the sashimi. There was more comfort to be had in the fact that their chef had also eaten a piece of the mysterious dish, since he too was human and subject to the same rules of engagement.

 

Plagued by her helplessness, she accepted a second, then a third bite.

 

It was only after she’d swallowed that third piece that she first felt a tingle, a sensation of lightness that blossomed insidiously on her tongue. A sip of the sake did nothing to dispel it, and she frowned, staring down at her lap. He was busily decking out another bite for himself, and she reached up to touch her chin, sliding light fingers down the column of her throat.

 

She wasn’t imagining it; a numbness was there, and it seemed to be spreading.

 

Her lips parted as it increased, breathing through it as the feeling in her mouth and throat faded into unsettling lightness.

 

With a sinking feeling, she turned to face him. He watched her with predatory interest, like a wolf whose patience had just been rewarded by the long-awaited reappearance of its prey.

 

His hand reached out, cupping her cheek as he slowly, purposefully slid a thumb down over her lips, dragging her plush lower lip with it.

 

Her heart faltered. She felt _nothing_.

 

He met her look of dawning horror with an avid expression that further sharpened. She was hauled to her feet as he stood abruptly, causing the chair behind them to topple to the ground. He released her waist only to seize her wrist, pulling her impatiently along as he strode to the back of the restaurant.

 

Her heart was frantic in her chest, a trapped thing begging for release as she stumbled behind him, barely able to keep up in her Louboutins.

 

She was pulled through a door and into a dimly lit room painted a dark, sanguine red. In the dimness, she registered a toilet and a glass sink with a koi motif before the door slammed closed.

 

There wasn't time to startle at the sound or even think as she was hurled up against a wall.

 

In a rush, he was on her. His hands were talons, pulling at her skirt, opening her silk blouse with a decisive yank. She gasped as the pearlescent buttons hit the floor and scattered. At once, his teeth buried themselves in her newly-liberated shoulder.

 

For all the numbness in her mouth, his bite was keenly felt. She keened like an animal caught, her knees giving out as he locked onto the bridge of delicate muscle. His body pressed her in place, disallowing her fall as he succeeded in his effort, her fitted skirt pooling about her hips.

 

A loud whine of protest escaped her as his massive hand cupped her groin, engulfing it in heat and rubbing her obscenely. He began to apply steadily increasing pressure and she squeaked, feeling his middle finger slipping up into the slickened fabric that was her only protection.

 

Panic lit through her as her feet left the ground and she pushed at him, an effort in futility. She may have been pushing at a Sequoia tree for all the good it did.

 

He released her shoulder, and, with a surge, lifted her up, her back sliding against the wall. Higher and higher, until her hips were level with his face.

 

Invisible hands gripped her wrists and pinned them near the ceiling.

 

“Noooo,” she moaned, protesting on autopilot and without any real hope as her thighs were yanked apart. He manipulated her with ease, arranging her legs over his shoulders in a reverse piggyback.

 

"Yes," he said, giving a lithe little chuckle as he pressed his mouth and nose against her cunt, flooding the sensitive area with his hot breath. “Such a pretty pink,” he murmured, nosing at her clit before yanking her soaked panties aside.

 

All panic ceased to matter as he crushed his mouth to her sopping folds, delving in to suck and lick with the ferocity of a starved beast.

 

Her cry bordered on a scream and he growled in response, his tongue slipping down to thrust into her tight opening. It was _so depraved_ , the way he slurped at her, sucking at her juices like they provided him nourishment. 

 

Her moaning and soft cries filled the air, along with the wet sounds of his mouth eating at her. She tried to arch but couldn’t, finding that not only was she restrained, but her whole body was locked to the wall, unable to even writhe as he forced her to take it in stillness.

 

“No,” she insisted, her urgency breaking through the engulfing pleasure as she tried to remind herself how crazy wrong this was, that he was a fucking demon, and that she had never, in all her life, contended with a more formidable threat.

 

But it was hard, so very _hard_ as his mouth carried out the crime. Those dark eyes stared unblinkingly up at her, and she sank into their smolder just as his tongue sank into her clenching cunt. _So hot and wet_. 

 

He set a tormenting cadence, penetrating her several times before swirling through the tender folds of her labia, laving and sucking at her clit before slipping down to pierce her again. It was too much and not enough, for he didn’t stay in either place long enough to allow a climax.

 

She sobbed softly into the blood-red darkness, held in place as his mouth sculpted her longing into a masterpiece.

 

Her whole pussy and groin area throbbed like a beating heart, the arousal excruciating. Having achieved his aim, he gave a ponderous final lick and unhooked her thighs, his invisible grip softening to allow her to slide to the floor.

 

She knelt before him in a daze, breasts exposed in their delicate lace bralette, skirt around her waist.

 

He sank into a crouch, knees on either side of her as he tilted her chin up to meet him. “C’mere for a sec before I put that mouth to good use,” he rumbled, claiming her mouth in a messy kiss. He groaned into her mouth, plundering with apparent delight. Rey could hear the low purr of the sound, could smell the scent of herself on him...but of feeling, there was _nothing_.

 

As he released her, one hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back. Understanding lit through her as her eyes settled on the inhuman length of hardened flesh now freed from his pants. 

 

She focused on it, watching with glazed eyes as he stroked himself with a dauntingly large fist that matched the rest of him, thinking only of how it looked like the perfect answer to the terrible craving he'd awoken.

 

“Open for me, angel,” he whispered, guiding his bulbous head to her mouth.

 

A thumb manipulated her, prying her jaws open to receive him. She couldn’t feel it as he penetrated her mouth, but she could see it as inch by inch, the length of his cock shortened as the gray fabric of his slacks closed in on her face.

 

Hands gripped her head, holding her in place as he slid in further, cutting off her breath. There was nothing but a vague sense of pressure as he submerged to the root, so deep in her throat.

 

He whispered breathy praises, lingering as his hands stroked her hair, rocking gently against her face. Her need to breathe was becoming urgent, and as her nails sank into his hips, he withdrew, letting her pull in several sputtering lungfuls of air. She saw that his entire length was wet with her saliva, and her mind floundered at the thought that he had fit all that inside her.

 

Then his cock was nudging at her numbed lips and she was opening for him. He reclaimed her throat with a deep groan of pleasure.

 

The lack of sensation was bewildering; she could feel nothing, only pressure and her airway being unavailable when he was anywhere past midway-seated in her mouth.

 

It was crazy knowing full well what he was doing but not being able to feel it. Even crazier was how turned on she was, the beast of her unmet need whipped into a lather by the wet sounds of him fucking her face, pumping in and out with smooth strokes. He was doing it again—abducting her logic and sense of self, reducing her to an animal with but one imperative.

 

He held her head gently now, almost lovingly as he pumped into her with soft little growls of delight that made her pussy gush with envy.

 

His praise dripped down her spine, turning her mind to mush. “You should see how your throat swells when my cock is in you. Just like that taut little tummy of yours. Fuck, Rey, such a Dirty. Little. Girl. Taking all of this dick.”

 

His hands were ever-moving on her face and head--pulling her hair into a ponytail, caressing her face, cradling her chin upwards. “Don’t you worry," he said, his strokes whipping wetly in and out of her mouth, "I’m gonna spill inside you, gonna fill that pretty mouth until you choke, and then I’m gonna split that tender pussy on my dick and come again.”

 

She moaned around the gag of his flesh as her body responded, a fresh surge of wetness dripping from her spread thighs to form a little pool of want on the concrete floor. 

 

Still, he didn't let up. “I’m going to fill you till you overflow, til you’re so thoroughly marked, every entity in the cosmos will smell my scent on you.”

 

She blinked in shock as her spine arched, her body desperate for him.

 

“Are you ready?” he breathed, thrusting harder now.

 

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she unsuccessfully fought to regulate her breathing with his thrusts, and all she could think of was that she might die if he didn’t shove this dick into her cunt.

 

All at once he buried himself deep, her nose nestled in the fabric that covered his groin as he jerked sharply.

 

She couldn’t so much as moan or feel the pulsing, but his passionate groan was accompanied by the vague warmth that coursed into her core.

 

Without warning, he pulled out, his huge body shuddering with pleasure.

 

Her body gasped for air, teary eyes wavering on the stream of milky spend that spilled lazily from his tip.

 

One hand pinched the base of his monstrous shaft, white-knuckled as the other hauled her up against the wall.

 

In a daze, she found her hands wrapped around the rock-hard muscle of his biceps as she clung to him shakily. Her heart pounded overheated blood through her veins, flushing her skin and making a laughingstock of coherent thought.

 

He licked his lips, eyes glittering with checked hunger as he angled his resplendent length toward her pussy.

 

Anticipation was a drug as she fixated on the engorged head of his dick, biting her lip as she watched how it subtly overflowed from the slit, milky opulence sliding enticingly down his length.

 

As his hand relaxed its vise, a jet of cum released to shoot into the heart of her over-sensitized flesh.

 

His warmth coated her, bringing with it an illicit bloom of pleasure that radiated through her sex. She moaned aloud, her head falling back against the wall as her nipples tightened into aching buds.

 

The taste he gave had her hips arching toward him, trying to connect with him in desperation. A plea sat barely restrained by flushed, unfeeling lips.

 

“That’s right, angel. It’s mine, all of it,” he crooned, letting her draw his body closer and giving a shallow thrust. The tip of his head breached her and she moaned as she felt it again; a stream of his spend so strong, it parted her muscles like an arrow, shooting deep inside her.

 

The muscles of her sheath clamped down, tightening around his head invitingly, needing so much more. Still he waited, maintaining position as he filled her with forceful spurts. His hands were firmly planted on her hips, engulfing them with heat and keeping her immobile as he teased her mercilessly.

 

Her chest rose and fell sharply, feverish with need and barely able to see straight. He wasn’t giving her release, so her hands strayed from him, cupping her breasts, fingers pulling the dusky lace down to bare her nipples. She didn’t even realize how she toyed with herself; pinching and pulling at her aching nipples in an instinctive bid to satiate her own exquisite need.

 

His dark eyes branded her, lingering on the movements she made, murmuring approvingly in that seductive, shadowy tongue. The obscure meaning of his words ceased to matter as a dark stain of pleasure spread through her blitzed mind. His hips twitched, pushing another inch into her, drawing forth a tortured moan.

 

The shooting feeling inside her had subsided, leaving her luscious with his molten seed and _fucking ravenous_ for more of his dick. She wanted him to fill her, needed him like the air she breathed. Never had she wanted anything so badly, not autonomy, nor freedom, nor her prized independence. Nothing had ever been more of an imperative then the need she had for him to fuck her _right_   _now_.

 

How naturally it came, her low, agonized plea.

 

“Please. If this is yours, _take it_.” Her voice eyes never wavered from those of the demon as she begged him to sully her further.

 

“As much as watching you struggle makes me _feel_ again…” He paused as his hips flexed, smoothly driving his cock up into her sheath. He smiled wickedly at the sound of her cry before continuing. “There are so many ways I enjoy you, but _impaled_ might just be a personal favorite.”

 

After all that edging and erotic play, the sensation of being so suddenly filled triggered in Rey an avalanche.

 

The pent-up need and shored tension released at once, and were she thinking coherently, she would’ve cried bitter tears at the way her body rewarded him for the depravity he subjected her to. As it was, she felt only relief as he gave her what he’d trained her to want. She sobbed brokenly as the delicate muscles of her sheath seized on his rigid length.

 

His voice sliced through her mind with that metallic purr. _Does my dick feel good inside you baby, hmm? Do you want a little more?_

 

He began pumping subtly in time with the throbbing of her body, letting each pulse carry him deeper.

 

She keened, venting the rapture as her head fell back against the wall, suddenly silenced by the magnitude of the pleasure that rolled up through her belly and all the way down the quivering muscles of her thighs.

 

One hand gripped her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. His pupils flared to fiery life as he fixed her with a near-fanatical intensity. “Look at me as you come,” he growled roughly, ”see who it is making you feel this ecstacy. Only me, little vixen, I'm the _only_ one. My cock in that pretty little pussy,” he flexed his hips, sliding into her tight sleeve with a groan of satisfaction. “You’ll never know another,” he promised, flashing a murderous smile.

 

Her body sucked him with fluttering little pulses, and he continued to hold her pinned with his narrowed stare, daring her to revive.

 

“I don’t want another,” she hissed, grasping the front of his shirt and tearing it open in a mirror of what he’d done to her. Her eyes grew feral as she took in the sculpted perfection of his abs and chest. “I only want this,” she growled, raking her nails down his washboard abs, her hands curling into sharp talons on his hips.

 

She gave him a quick jerk forward, like a jockey commanding speed of her mount. “Now show me, _and don’t hold back._ ”

 

“As you wish,” he purred, all deviousness as his lidded stare straight  _owned_ her.

 

She panted with anticipation as he drew back his hips. There was the long slide of his withdrawal before he rocked into her with a thrust that rattled her teeth. She gasped, blinking rapidly at the startling sensation, the swiftness with which he entered her.

 

With a dark little chuckle, he began to fuck her well and truly, each brutal connection eliciting an abrupt cry from her numb lips.

 

The inked symbols on his body danced sinuously to life, hidden imagery revealed as he pistoned into her, taking as he gave. Every flex brought newfound meaning to each angle and curve, and she stared, mesmerized at the malefaction, a tale of mortal sin made captivating by the hands of a master.

 

Her breath constricted in her throat, cutting short the longer she stared.

 

“See something you like?” he teased, landing a sharp thrust that lifted her feet from the ground.

 

Rey shook her head weakly as she bounced on his cock. There were no words. Only moans, sobs and whimpers remained, and as he snapped his hips forward in another vicious thrust, _screams_ added themselves to her vocabulary.

 

The sound poured from her in a carnal symphony that synced with the cruel percussion of his hips--desperate, cut-off cries that rang through the small space, easily heard several doors down.  

 

“Make it louder for me, angel,” he rasped, beginning to break a sweat as he upped the ante, pounding into her ruthlessly. “Let them weep for what I do to you.”

 

He pulled her thighs about his hips, leveraging an even deeper angle that had her obeying instantly. They were so wet down there, such a terrible mess, and the lewd, indecent sound of their coupling frayed the remaining threads of coherent thought.

 

Her lungs burned, unable to keep up with the brutal pummeling that beat each breath from her before it could provide the oxygen she needed. Darkness bloomed at the corners of her vision, alive with stars. They grew bright and she chased them, her eyes slipping closed as her head fell aside.

 

Time seemed to slow, or was it him, tempering the fiery storm between her legs, rolling into her with a deliberateness that won him a throaty groan.

 

She called his name worshipfully, heard him reply in his arcane tongue. His whispers threaded through her mind and coursed through her bloodstream, easing the frantic energy from her body.

 

Suddenly he was tender, his chest pressed lightly to hers. His lips kissed the skin below her earlobe, as lazy as the gentle pistoning of his cock.

 

Still, her eyes remained closed, just feeling the luxurious tingling in the wake of his violence.

 

As she moved into a deeper state of relaxation, she felt him jolt against her. Between her legs, deep inside her, she felt that first celebratory spurt of his cum.

 

Her lips parted in a small, wondering smile as she gave a staggered gasp at the feeling. Again, he anointed her from the inside, waves of milky warmth that lapped into her so sweetly, tears trickled from her closed eyes.

 

She knew not if his pleasure was her own, or if his spend held some magic. All she knew was that it was divine. "Kylo," she trilled softly, exultingly as he flooded her body with a tide of liquid rapture.

 

Her body was limp as a rag doll, only upright due to the press of his own. When the pulses of his release subsided, she felt his hand engulf the side of her face, so warm as his voice spoke, low and commanding.

 

“You’re mine. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted, things you’ve never dreamed of, little vixen.”

 

His lips pressed a cloud-like kiss to her temple, and she groaned as the decadent pressure of his cock eased from her, leaving her absolutely bereft. Her cunt ached as the warm wet flood poured forth, running down legs that shook uncontrollably.

 

Her eyes felt glued shut, unwilling to cooperate, but her mind was submissive and she accepted her fate unquestioningly.

 

His body never left hers, and she sighed his name once more as he supported her while straightening her skirt.

 

When he scooped her into his arms, she felt only gratitude, a compliant victim born away from the scene of the crime.

 

 

* * *

 

**Glossary/Random terms of speech used:**

 

Irasshaimase = A polite form of welcome given to visitors of an establishment

 

Konichiwa = Good afternoon

 

Douzo meshiagare = Bon appetite

 

Kylo’s imperative to Toma : Anata no geijutsu wa kanzen ni jikkō sa remasu. Erā wa arimasen. _“Your art will be perfectly executed. There will be no errors.”_

 

The exchange during the fugu presentation 

 

Kylo’s inquiry: Dōdesu ka, Toma-san?  _“How is it, Toma-san?_ ”

 

Toma’s reply: Watashi wa shibirete imasu. Sore wa chōdo īdesu.  _“I am numb. It is just right.”_

 

 **T** **he food** :

 

Sashimi tuna poké = Cubed tuna sashimi, flying fish roe, scallions, and seaweed in poké sauce. So many variations on this, especially in Hawaii. Message me for recipes!

 

Karai karaage. = Crunchy fried sole served with grated white radish (daikon) and ponzu (soy-citrus) dipping sauce

 

Agedashi tofu = Lightly fried tofu served with grated white daikon, ginger and bonito flakes in a dashi broth.

 

Shochu iichiko = A Japanese spirit distilled from barley, rice or sweet potato. 25%-35% by volume.

 

Sake = Fermented rice drink, served cold or warm. 13%-18% by volume.

 

Torafugu: The tiger pufferfish, so called for its tigerlike markings. The tetrodotoxin level of a torafugu, when compared with common fugu, is dramatic: A single common blowfish contains enough poison to kill up to 30 adults, while the torafugu’s ovary alone has enough deadly neurotoxin to kill 20. It once was but is no longer served in licensed fugu establishments.  
  
Dit Da Jao: Translates to “fall and strike wines,” in Chinese. An analgesic liniment traditionally preferred by martial artists. Liniments are an extract or infusion of herbs, usually in alcohol; hence, the name "wine" in Chinese. From the Chinese medicine perspective, alcohol invigorates the blood and qi and allows for better penetration into an injured area. Liniments are applied topically with the intention of reducing pain, swelling, inflammation and to speed healing. Often a martial arts master blends his unique mixture of many aromatic herbs such as myrrh and ginseng, which are combined to stimulate circulation, reduce pain and swelling, and improve healing of injuries and wounds.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Summary of rottenness:** Kylo feeds an unwitting Rey _torafugu sashimi,_ the painstakingly prepared flesh of a tiger pufferfish. It contains a potent neurotoxin that causes her throat to become numb, which he, _ahem,_ rather takes advantage of in the bathroom of the establishment. Demon smut ensues.
> 
>  **A note for the sake of noting:** I do not endorse the eating of fugu. Much like rolling liquid mercury between your fingers or the practice of swallowing knives, it's a Really Bad Idea™.
> 
>  **A note on the restaurant in question:** **Tsukushinbo exists and is located in the Pioneer Square area. Like nearly all respectable sushi establishments, does NOT serve fugu in any form. The food is incredible, and if you are after authentic Japanese and are in Seattle, GO THERE. And good luck getting in if it's lunchtime...
> 
> May those wonderful people remain blissfully unaware of this fic, forevermore, until always.
> 
> But if you go, BUZZ ME!! I wanna know what you ordered!! LOL :)))


	8. Paint A White Rose Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo brings Rey back to her apartment, intent on learning more about her. He enters her mind and discovers a past incident that provokes him into action. 
> 
> Kylo grudgingly accepts the advice of his Hellcniht and at last summons his master, revealing that he has bound a soul under extraordinary circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! A random chapter from your fav demon's POV. I thought I'd toss it in the mix for fun, and bc I love writing villainous Kylo. Plus, as bonus – say helloooo to the Devil himself...;)
> 
>  
> 
> Personal note to readers: My people! Please forgive the radio silence, I've been absorbed with several super top-secret writing projects and haven't had much time to devote to this story. It hurts a bit, because I've got a ton of ideas to flesh out and am DYING to get on it! Just know that this story won't be abandoned. I'm more organized with where I want it to go than I ever have been in the past. And, for my unscripted, chaotic ass, that's saying a lot.
> 
> Thank you for bearing with me, and for your comments. They make my world a happy place:))) xo

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Allow me to spice your imagination with these pics of Rey's gracious old high rise, the Dexter Horton, circa 1892.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 **Chapter 8**  

 

Songspiration: Soundgarden, [Girl You Want](https://youtu.be/5BDLO5269Lk)

 

 

 

She wasn’t quite unconscious as he carried her from the restaurant. Her eyes were closed and there was no strength in her limbs, but a small bit of awareness remained, barely keeping above the still, dark surface of total oblivion. 

 

Not moments earlier, he’d reluctantly withdrawn from her body, catching her as she slid bonelessly down the wall. Kylo had inhaled deeply against her sweaty skin, relishing the scent of sex that clung to her. Righting her skirt, he’d swept her into his arms, tucking the torn silk of her blouse over her lace-clad breasts. 

 

The bathroom door opened with a sharp bang for them as he headed for the car that sat idling at the ready. He looked down at the table where they’d sat, glancing over the remains of their order and the stack of bills that had appeared in their absence. Money meant less than nothing, and he left it even though he knew the _itamae_ wouldn’t want to touch it. A little salt in the wound.

 

He could just make out the muffled sound of sobs coming from where the chef and his apprentice cowered in the kitchen. They’d heard _everything_ and were sure that he’d literally fucked the life out of the girl draped in his arms. Looking down, his eyes traced the graceful line of her throat, her delicate jawline, the lips he'd so recently tested. _No death for you, fierce one. You're mine to toy with..._

 

Listening to the distraught sounds of the men, he briefly considered wiping their memories in a show of mercy before deciding against it. With a wicked smirk, he pitched his voice toward the traumatized men. “Domo, Toma-san,” he called, exiting the door.

 

His metal steed purred throatily at the curb, its glossy coat undimmed by the threatening sky. Opening the passenger door, he reclined the seat and settled her limp body against the supple maroon leather. Then he straightened, lounging against the open door as he admired the ruined girl where she lay. Her face was pale and lips so swollen, the wreckage of her clothing and tracks of his seed marking her as thoroughly debauched. 

 

A powerful draught of satisfaction rolled through his being, more than he could ever recall feeling. _Such a prize._ _Ah, the jealousy she’d inspire when word got out._

 

He shut the door and crossed over to the driver’s side, gloating as he revved the engine with a low roar. 

 

With only an idea of where he needed to go, the car guided them effortlessly southeast toward the international district. As they drove, he projected his will outward and located the thing he sought.

 

It was only four and already getting dark, the twilight aided by a thickening bank of rain clouds. The Maserati's mirror finish reflected the bright red lanterns strung overhead, each one a little bastion of cheer in the low winter sky. 

 

Rey stirred listlessly as they pulled up before a cluttered row of storefronts, their windows busy with the vertical scroll of _hanzi._ Her head lolled toward him, eyes fluttering open to focus on a silver-haired Chinese woman standing outside of the car. She smiled benevolently at them both before handing Kylo a small, paper bag through the window. 

 

“Xièxiè, qīn'ài de nǚshì,” he said, nodding his head in thanks.

 

The lady peered in through the window, tipping her chin at the semi-conscious girl laying in the passenger seat. “Nǐ huì zhàogù tā ma?” she asked, reproachful as she turned to Kylo.

 

He responded with a hurt look. “Shì,” he replied, “Dāngrán. Tā shì wǒ de tiānshǐ.”

 

The shopkeeper bestowed them with a radiant smile, satisfied that all was right in the world. “Hǎo, hǎo,” she said, bobbing her head as she stepped back from the curb.

 

Kylo glanced over at Rey, savoring the hint of worry that surfaced through her daze. “Shhh," he soothed. "Rest your head. You’ve never been safer in all your life, little girl.”

 

Naturally, she rejected his assertion, turning away from him as her eyes slipped closed. He caught the trailing thread of snark that dragged her down into true sleep. He looked up, smiling approvingly at no one in particular as he floored it in the direction of her apartment.

 

The Dexter Horton was located mere minutes from the international district, reduced to seconds as he tore carelessly through the city blocks. 

 

Pulling up to the stately old building with an obnoxious screech, he exited and straightened to his full height. Ever-so-casually, he scanned the people passing on the busy sidewalk fronting 2nd Avenue, twirling the keys on a long finger as he allowed the unseen nebula of his presence to expand.

 

Under his influence, public alarm at his reckless arrival mellowed instantly. In the span of a second, the perceptions of bystanders skewed, the logical part of their thinking turned off as simply as one would flip a light switch. 

 

The frown of strangers morphed into smiles as feelings of benevolence eclipsed all else. 

 

Satisfied, he crossed over to the passenger side and opened the door to claim his precious cargo. 

 

Sliding his arms beneath her, he dipped his head and licked appreciatively at the lace-clad curve of an exposed breast, hoisting her easily into his arms. He didn’t bother to rearrange her clothing as he had earlier - no one would remember seeing them, and she was unaware of her state of dishevelment. 

 

Not a passerby so much as blinked as he carried the half-dressed, unconscious girl from the car, pausing at the threshold of her building to toss the keys to a homeless man with a wink. 

 

The glass doors opened for them with a quiet whir, and Kylo bore them over the threshold. He strolled lazily, taking in the ornately coffered ceiling of her lobby, the palms in their marble planters, the mailroom of gilded bronze mailboxes. 

 

A lobby attendant looked up and drank in the sight of them, his eyes following appreciatively before returning his attention back to his desk.

 

Kylo knew he cut a striking figure, glancing down to behold his reflection upon the polished marble floor. He hadn’t bothered to button his crisp, white button-down since she’d torn it open in a fit of passion, and the stark fresco of ink that covered his chest was revealed above the drape of her body. 

 

One of the two elevators arrived, its doors opening to admit an elderly matron walking a gooey-eyed bichon frise. A fierce blush rose in her cheeks as her eyes swept over the pair of them. "Oh my!" she muttered in a scandalized tone, failing to hide a smile.

 

Her dog, on the other hand, was less than impressed, its growl erupting into a volley of frightened barks.

 

Kylo’s dark brow arched as he traded places with her. “Ma’am,” he growled, inclining his head with a hint of sarcasm. He spared the yapping animal a glance, his nostrils flaring as he sent a push of hostility its way. The animal halted mid-bark, jumping as if shocked. The doors closed on the sight of the woman being dragged along, trying to calm her squealing pet as it flailed and strained at the end of its leash. 

 

As they began the ascent to Rey’s fifteenth-floor unit, Kylo gnashed his teeth in annoyance. He’d wanted to see more of the place where she lived, and now he had. Next time, he’d use more dignified means to reach her apartment. 

 

Her unit was dark as they entered and he left it as such, the door closing quietly after them. Through her wall of windows, the geometric rows of randomly lit offices and apartments climbed all around, lighting the night like living circuit boards. 

 

He strode across her flat and saw that she’d remade the bed with the linens he’d sent – a sign she was coming to accept the permanence of her fate. He chuckled quietly, amused as he lowered her into the cloudlike softness that draped her bed. 

 

She was five pounds lighter than she’d been when he claimed her. He’d never taken a thrall before, and no demon or demoness had ever been fortunate enough to bind an unwilling soul. Accordingly, there was no baseline for understanding the ripple effects of such a claiming, but weight loss was unsurprising given the stressors she’d been subjected to... 

 

Still, she needed to eat, and by the time she awoke, the fugu venom would have metabolized out of her system, making choking an impossibility. 

 

He crouched beside her, stripping off his shirt with the sinuous grace of a snake shedding its skin. With growing anticipation, he turned his attention to her, intent on laying her bare before commencing with the intimate act. 

 

His hands were gentle as he began to strip her of each article of clothing. She’d never know the mercy he afforded her by doing this while she was unaware, for a conscious takeover was an affront of the worst kind. The unfortunate would writhe, blinded with horror as their mind was hijacked, fully aware of his presence but unable to halt or slow the complete pillage of their secrets and memories. 

 

In the past, the misery of his victims had been something he’d either passively enjoyed or viewed indifferently. 

 

With her, it was different. 

 

Learning her wasn’t an order or a means to an end, but something he very much wanted. She belonged to him; their blood had mingled and his name was written in Darkness upon her. Invading the mind of this fiery, resistive creature promised a much richer, more personal experience than ever before.  

 

He shivered with uncharacteristic anticipation, his dark eyes beginning to swim with heat as he took in the naked girl before him. Leaning over her, he brushed his fingers lightly over her temple and entered her mind. He hadn’t had a chance to know her this way since they’d bonded, ever being called away to pursue the aims of his Lord or completely distracted by the pleasures she so unwillingly provided.  

 

Now he hummed, his cock standing at attention as he merged with her, reveling in that first taste of her passions and dislikes. He shrugged off the urge to thrust into her body as he penetrated her mind, liberating her habits and history, every unique quirk and every experience that had carried her into womanhood. Back he traveled; a spectral observer of the defining events that had sculpted her independent nature.

 

As he soaked in her unique story and perceptions, he thought he might understand...why she was so exceptional in her ability to resist his effect, how she remained stalwart until he brought out the big guns and positively dismantled her. 

 

The girl was special. She possessed grit and an ironclad will to overcome adversity. Her reality had been defined by a series of sink-or-swim moments, and each one had tempered her mettle.

 

She was alone, with nothing between her and the world but her psychological armor. There had never been siblings or parents to form lasting connections with, and her adoptive mother had come into her life at the age of eleven. 

 

Friendships she kept superficial and romantic love meant less than nothing. She didn’t date and had never been physical with anyone, largely due to her trust issues and general devaluing of physical intimacy. 

 

She was deeply content on her own and didn’t lack for self-esteem. Her idea of happiness revolved around self-reliance, and she’d succeeded against all odds, raising herself from an impoverished orphan into a successful young woman. 

 

Traveling deeper into her past, he arrived at a traumatic time within her formative years that gave him pause. His focus honed to absorb minute details and feelings as he poured over this time in her childhood, carefully sorting through the tangle of hardship. 

 

She whimpered in her sleep, the part of her that was connected to him reacting as a seed flared to life within him, its fire burning not with heat, but cold, ice cold fury. Unseen by her, his jaw worked as he inhaled deeply, exhaling in a sharp, impatient rush. 

 

He’d seen enough. 

 

Releasing her from his invasion, he arose and stalked over to her display case of daggers, his red gaze taking in the array of blades on their bed of dark velvet. His eyes lingered on each one in turn, fists balling and relaxing as a dull rumbling filled the room. 

 

His erection was long gone, arousal replaced by a different sort of passion. 

 

He spun sharply on his heel and made his way to the slider, his shoulders hunched threateningly. It opened and he stepped into the cold dark. The heavy, double-paned glass slid closed behind him with a quiet _click_. 

 

He breathed in the mineral scent of rain as he reached out, his will spanning distances that slipped between the laws of spatial physics. The glittering city and the living blackness of the bay were rendered in red as they reflected in his eyes. 

 

His sooty wings unfurled, a reflex born of impatience as he waited for his summons to be answered. He positively itched to do this errand himself, restrained only by the crafty instincts that defined his nature. 

 

Not moments later, his favored Hellcnihtarrived, plummeting like a lightless star to hover before him, it’s cloaked head bowed in a show of respect. 

 

“Master,” Azrael intoned, glancing up to meet Kylo’s burning stare. “How may I serve?” 

 

“Find him,” he said, projecting the name and face he’d plucked from her mind, “and report back to me with his status. I want to know everything. And Azrael,” he added, waiting as his second raised his head to meet his eyes again, “under no circumstances will you make yourself known, and above all, _leave him for me_.”

 

“As you say,” his servant replied, departing on a sharp gust of wind. 

 

Kylo stared broodingly at the black waters of Elliot Bay, his ire cooling as he considered various means of retribution. Up until he’d claimed her, his only concern had been satisfying the needs of his Lord, followed closely by his own impulses. Hence, the process of said deliberation was somewhat novel. It wasn’t that he suddenly cared about what she thought or might want, more that she was an exceptional, unlooked-for treasure that had wandered through his door, a belonging worthy of special attention. 

 

A curtain of rain arrived, each drop housing a small kernel of ice. He didn’t notice as they pelted his skin, steaming slightly when they encountered the elevated temperature of his body. 

 

Idly, he ordered one of her favorite meals from a little hole-in-the-wall in U-district, rattling off the dishes he’d gleaned from her mind directly into the proprietor's thoughts. Then he turned his back on the night and headed inside her apartment, drawn to the sleeping girl laying so peacefully atop her bed. 

 

He sat beside her, devouring her nakedness with the heat of his stare. Her skin was pale in the dappled indigo darkness, her face serene as she slumbered. 

 

The near-anesthetic quality of her deep sleep was due in part to him. He knew that human bodies mended best during states of rest, all energies going into repairs while other bodily functions were on the backburner. He’d fed her the neurotoxic flesh of a poisonous fish, slipped his dick down her throat and fucked her untrained body rigorously. _And that only covered the physical strain of their engagement_. She rather needed her rest, and he aimed to give it to her.  

 

His eyes wandered over the myriad of bruises that peppered her skin and found himself disagreeing with her, thinking each discoloration an artful show of his affections. He arched a brow, summoning the paper bag and retrieving the glass bottle within it. Deftly, he unscrewed the cap and dabbed some of the _dit da jao_ onto his fingertips. 

 

Kylo began at the top, rubbing the liniment into the bruises that collared her slender throat. He was methodical as he moved over her, somewhat reluctantly treating each lovebite. 

 

When he reached the perfect, rounded curves of her breasts, he allowed himself a reward, sucking at a mouthful of her soft flesh, laving at her even as he scraped his teeth over her skin. The bright fuchsia mark he left was treated too, first with a few indulgent kisses and then with the liniment, same as all the rest.

 

Upon finishing his task, he decided to bathe her. He parted her legs and slid languorously onto his front between them. Starting at her ankles, he began to lick, his warm mouth sucking at the tackiness that coated her, a mixture of their cum now dried in tracks that streaked the length of her shapely legs. 

 

He was fastidious, plying her with long, wet licks as inch by inch, he groomed her clean. A low, rumbling hum emitted from his chest as he worked, tasting the mingling of her juices with his. It was an incredibly satisfying experience, one he’d never thought to have before, and he drew it out, sampling the nuances in her flavor.

 

He was involved with sucking enthusiastically at her inner thigh when his emissary made his presence known. With a single thought, he bid him enter, not bothering to look up as Azrael's presence materialized several respectful feet from the bed. It was only after his second had knelt for a few moments that Kylo spoke. 

 

“Well?” he asked between licks.  

 

“Unkar Plutt was charged for labor law violations, child abuse, money laundering, and bribery. He is in poor health and currently incarcerated in Monroe, on the fourth year of a twenty-eight year sentence.”

 

Kylo had paused as he listened, his eyes sweeping over the dappled spots of light that peppered Rey’s skin. “His age?” he inquired.

 

“He is sixty-eight, Master, and grossly obese. He will likely die in prison before his sentence is served.”

 

Kylo shot his favored Hellcnihta keen glance. “I think the odds of it are in his favor,” he mused. “Thank you, Azrael, I am satisfied for now.”

 

His henchman swept low in a bow, his dark robes pooling like oil. He straightened and gave his master and the girl a final curious look before turning to go.

 

Kylo paused his ministrations and turned to fix his servant with feral eyes. He’d felt Azrael reach out, skirting along the periphery of her energy, unable to stop himself as he sought confirmation of what his demonic instincts were screaming. 

 

He smiled lazily, deigning to answer the unasked question. “You aren’t mistaken; she was untainted.” 

 

The stunned awe rolling off his underling was palpable, and most pleasing. “Master. Forgive me, but...you bound a pure soul –  _without_ utilizing your craft? How is it possible?”

 

“In her desperation to escape, she made a bargain and willingly gave of her blood,” he replied. “She was unaware of the magnitude of consequence. A costly decision for her, a boon for me.”

 

Azrael cocked his head a little, reading the branded scrawl of Kylo’s signature that threaded up her delicate finger, marking her as untouchable. 

 

“Such a gem she is, Master,” he murmured, shaking his cloaked head. “Maul will fly into a red rage when he hears of your luck.”

 

Kylo looked up, his lips widening in a villainous smirk. “Indeed. He is terribly predictable with that temper.”

 

Azrael nodded. “He is one with his ability, as are you, Master.”

 

“Ever the diplomat, Azrael,” he said dryly, before changing tracks. “I’d kill to know if Traya saw this coming.” His eyes gleamed catlike in the dimness. “Of course, if she had, the Dark Lord would know, and I’m sure he’d have paid me a visit by now.” 

 

“Perhaps you should beat her to it,” Azrael offered. “It would serve in your favor to be the one to disclose the binding of a thrall, given you haven’t seen fit to do so until now. And particularly one so...unusual.” 

 

“She has been an extraordinary dish and quite the distraction...I admit to wanting to keep her existence quiet.” He licked his lips, looking like a predator hunched over a fresh kill. “It’s in our nature,” he remarked, turning his attention back to the supple flesh of her thighs. “However, your advice is sound.” 

 

Clearly dismissed, his second departed with a bow, merging silently back into the night.

 

Kylo finished his task, battling the rising gale of possessiveness that lashed through him. As much as he didn’t like it, Azrael was right. He couldn’t keep her a secret much longer without risking the wrath of his lord. He’d already passed up an opportunity earlier in the week, when he’d been summoned to weight the dice of a high-stakes meeting in Beirut. 

 

With a heavy sigh, Kylo arose, gazing down on his sleeping captive. She looked as immaculate as she tasted, her youthful face pale and lovely in the dark. 

 

Walking into the middle of the room, he knelt woodenly and opened the channels of energy that bound him in service. His eyes began to glow like red hot coals, casting a hellish light over the planes of his face. In an instant, he felt the presence of the master, a dark nimbus of awareness that metastasized, filling every corner of his mind. With their connection bridged, all he saw and thought would be shared.

 

He directed his burning stare at Rey.

 

 _Master,_ he began, _I have claimed and bound a soul._

 

Kylo braced for the forthcoming reply. He knew that the effect of the dark lord’s voice was magnified in the hearing of mortals, it's lure more appealing than that of the fabled sirens of Greek lore. No one was totally impervious, although demons had some immunity to its sway. Chills broke over his skin as his master replied, his voice a resonant vibrato through his head. 

 

_Have you now? An auspicious occasion, indeed. I’d given up hope that you’d ever find a pet that lived up to your exacting standards. Pray tell; from what ideology does she hail?_

 

With a short breath, Kylo divulged the more crucial information, that which set her a world apart from all other thralls. _She was not of the indoctrinated, my lord. Her soul was untainted when she agreed to bind herself to me._

 

The silence was deafening and had Kylo possessed a heart, it would have skipped in the weighted pause. When at last his lord replied, the elegant resonance of his voice had become a slick, calculating purr.

 

_My, what a treasure you’ve found. Tell me about her._

 

Kylo swallowed, feeling a lightness in his chest that was very human in quality. But then, the fallen had the power to unnerve even the brashest demon. 

 

He took a deep breath and continued. _She is exceptionally strong of spirit and possesses the ability to resist my influence to a point. In the end, that strength was her downfall, for it was her will to escape that led her to bargain with me._

 

The dark lord let out a peal of mocking laughter, its sound rolling through Kylo’s head like thunder. _A mortal girl...resists YOU?! What am I to make of it? Are you losing your touch, boy?_

 

Kylo kept his head down, lips pressed into a thin line as he endured the barrage of amused scorn. Silently, he revisited the memories of that fateful night in the club, allowing his liege to see it all. 

 

When the dark lord spoke next, it was with pleasure, inky and black.

 

_Ensnaring her was well done, my child. She is special indeed, and a fitting thrall for one of your stature. Her resistance is a delightful answer to your abilities, and she will provide you much sport. You may do with her as you please._

 

The deep, resonant voice began to fade as his master severed the connection. His parting command floated down the final threads of their bond. _Be in Khartoum Bahri at dawn on the morrow. I have need of you._

 

Kylo exhaled as the all-encompassing presence faded, his shoulders releasing their tense set. 

 

His disclosure had gone well and the lull in his reporting went unpunished. He knew his infraction was eclipsed by the precedence of binding a pure soul; one who had not come forth on their knees, groveling pathetically in the hopes of being indentured to the Dark. 

 

Like most of present-day society, Rey was entirely unaware of the theological entities from which thralls were occasionally taken. She went about her life oblivious to those who were keen to serve the Dark, and up until she’d met her fate was entirely innocent of the supernatural.

 

Rising from his knees, his eyes lingered on said prize, his mind alight with the word that had always merited scorn. It now held the sweetest ring to it, the warm, dulcet taste of victory. 

 

_Pure._

 

_Deliciously pure._

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Glossary**

 

 

Kylo to Toma-san on the way out: “Domo,” is slang for thank you in Japanese.

 

Hanzi are the characters used to write in Chinese. 

 

Kylo’s exchange with the shopkeeper (Mandarin): 

 

“Xièxiè, qīn'ài de nǚshì.” Translates to “Thank you, sweet lady.”

 

Shopkeeper’s reply: “Nǐ huì zhàogù tā ma?”  Translates to, “You will take care of her?”

 

Kylo: “Shì! Dāngrán. Tā shì wǒ de tiānshǐ,” Translates to “Yes! Of course. She is my angel.”

 

Shopkeeper: “Hǎo, hǎo,” Translates to “Good, good.”

 

Hellchiht = Knight of hell

 

Dit da jao: Translates to "fall-and-strike wines."  Chinese linament used by martial art practitioners to treat bruises and cure pain. 


	9. Free From All The Earthly Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo continues to stake his claim on Rey by making several dramatic changes in her life. Deeply unsettled by the meaning behind his actions, she flees the scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks out* *yells into the Ao3 void* _SORRRRY!!!!_ I've assembled a set of gifs to explain my absence from my dearly beloved WIP, and they are as follows:
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> Okay, all excuses and furry distractions aside. My usually steadfast personal life has been nuts, but that's the brakes. No one flies the friendly skies forever, no? I hope to update with improved frequency as the turbulence subsides. Thanks for hanging in, ma peeps! <3

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Songspiration: [ _Future Starts Slow,_](https://youtu.be/KiLjuRG3hoE) The Kills

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The unmistakable scent of Indian food brought her to. _That and the finger tracing lightly through her slickened folds._  

 

Her eyes flew open, blinking a few times as her brows knit together. He was _there_ , petting her in a leisurely fashion, so casual as he touched her. She repressed the instantaneous sense of desperation that assailed her as details other than where his fingers were registered—she was home, splayed out and fully naked atop her bed. Beside her lounged the demon, his eyes dark as a moonless night. His tattooed chest was bare and he wore only a pair of pants. 

 

Besieged by the threat of his proximity, her mind tore through courses of action as she fought to ignore the sensual slide that was happening between her nether lips. He rolled the pad of his finger across her clit and she gasped at the little dart of pleasure he wrought, her knees rising as she pressed her feet into the mattress.

 

The race of her thoughts stalled, caught in the mud of futility. Every time she found herself in his presence, a little more of her understood...each time she fought and failed, it became clearer: escape was not an option. 

 

With a heavy heart, she clenched her teeth, biting hard to suppress a moan of real misery. _How did he feel so fucking good?_ Turning her head, she glared weakly up at the monster beside her, hating the familiarity of their pose almost as much as she hated her vulnerability. 

 

He was propped up on one elbow, his leonine head braced against a palm, so lazy as he watched her face with idle amusement. She exhaled in a frustrated huff as her nerve endings sang for him, her hands tensing around cloudlike handfuls of comforter. 

 

“I was hoping you’d be gone,” she groused, aiming for bitter and failing miserably. His finger rubbed slowly at her clit and her voice cracked, becoming a whine. 

 

“Soon, little vixen,” he replied with the hint of a smile. “What kind of daddy would I be, leaving my baby girl without taking care of her first, hmmm?”

 

She was about to insist she’d been fucking _great_ without him when he rolled atop her and wedged his hips between her thighs with a decisive shove. Her lips were parted to speak but the words were already dead and forgotten, her mind sabotaged by the ungodly weight of his cock slotted against her sex. 

 

“Are you ready to eat?” he asked, flashing a devilish smile as she paled beneath him. 

 

He began to slide down her body, not breaking contact with her panicked eyes. 

 

“You must be hungry,” he said, still smirking, “all you had for lunch was me.”

 

Her head fell aside, stunned by the purposeful reminder of what he’d done to her. 

 

“You horrible bastard!” she swore weakly, distracted by how his hands dwarfed her body as he took each leg in turn, arranging them over those broad, tattooed shoulders. 

 

She squirmed against him, not with any real hope of breaking free but more for the principle, on behalf of whatever pathetic dignity she managed to retain. Her head fell back on the pillow, staring weakly at her ceiling as his arms locked over the tops of her thighs, pinning her hips in place.

 

She felt fragile against the hardness of his limbs, a lost cause trapped in the tightening coils of a constrictor. _He was so fucking BIG! Everything about him was massive. How the honest fuck had he fit down her throat?!_

 

“Fuck, I _hate_ you!” she hissed, livid all over again when she thought of it.

 

Instinctively, she reached up to caress her poor, abused throat and was relieved when she could feel the touch of her fingertips. Sensation was returning. She swallowed gingerly. By some miracle, it only ached slightly.

 

Her rising fury was paused by the feathery warmth of his breath blowing on her. It was soft, soft and so light. Again a stream of air hit her, heightening her awareness as her pussy tingled with anticipation. 

 

She shook her head in frustration. It was fucking bullshit the way he made her body respond!—the way every inch of her skin longed for a brush of his fingers or a warm trailing lick of his tongue. Her cunt spasmed pleasurably, defiling her mind with the memory of how good his cock felt. 

 

Unable to escape the treason, she let out a besieged moan, hands pressing at the corded forearms that crossed her hips. She heard his amused chuckle but was too enmeshed in her own conflict to be outraged. 

 

He spoke, keeping his lips millimeters from the moist petals of her cunt. “Are you struggling with it, baby?” The taunt in his voice chafed her further, each word a feather of hot breath. “Is it terribly hard...to crave what you hate?” 

 

 _Horrible, evil bastard!!_ She choked on a sob as the tip of his tongue parted her inner folds, slipping up to pause, quivering at the hood of her clit. There he lingered, applying a ghostly pressure that had her throbbing with want of more. 

 

All of a sudden, the way he owned her body became too much to bear and something inside her broke. The pressurized build of her anguish burst forth in a raw-throated cry of despair. 

 

“NNNNNNOOO!” 

 

Her hand flew back, a possessed thing that released as she slapped herself hard. 

 

“Snap out of it!” she shrieked, striking herself again. “What _the fuck_ is wrong with you?!-- _what the fffuck-_ -”

 

Her tirade was halted mid-sentence as her arms were seized and slammed to the bed, pinned out at her sides like a crucified saint. He’d ceased his torment, now staring up at her with a burning dark gaze.

 

The energy in the room was _changed—_ it swept up her body with a static crackle that caused the fine hairs to rise. She let out a dry sob, mind overflowing with stunned despair, barely able to keep up with what was happening. 

 

His shoulders flexed sinuously as he unwound his arms from her thighs and began to stalk up her body in a low, ominous crawl. 

 

She panted, half-crying as she strained at binds she couldn’t see. As he drew level with her flushed face, she whipped her head aside, fiercely determined not to look at him. Her heart pounded desperately against her ribs, threatening to burst free of its cage.

 

If these tiny acts of defiance were all she had left, they were still better than nothing. While her mind was her own, she’d do _anything_ to thwart his designs, even something as small as refusing to look at him. 

 

“There it is,” he snarled. “That fire, that wildness and will to escape your fate. You _do_ know that it’s what led you to the place you are _right now,_ don’t you?” His metallic rasp contained an amalgam of contradictions; pleasure, mockery, and there at the heart of it all, a kernal of well-disguised awe. She refused to analyze it, continuing to scowl tight-lipped at the hall to her bathroom.

 

_Look at me, Rey._

 

“I do _nothing_  for your pleasure!” she vowed bitterly. 

 

 _Reyyy..._ the sound of her name sent golden ripples through her mind, like wind over a sunlit river. The sound was startlingly beautiful, and so shocked was she that her head turned of its own accord. Her eyes met his and a single whimper of trepidation was all she managed before all that came before ceased to matter.

 

The angel gazed down upon her, his porcelain skin emanating a soft, radiant light. Her eyes widened as all of her fight atomized in the glowing warmth of his stare. There were no words to describe his eyes, gloriously dark and profound as they drank her in. Her surroundings fell away as stunned emotion surged in her chest, rising up and causing her to swallow painfully. Words were unnecessary, and she projected her reverent desire to serve as tears threatened to overflow.

 

In the worshipful silence that cradled them, he delivered his mandate.

 

_You will not engage in harming yourself in any way, nor will you deny yourself sustenance._

 

In his words was the ring of salvation— the soft patter of rain after a hundred-year drought, the gasp of life-giving air in the lungs of a drowning soul, the sweet sound of a child’s laughter in the ears of the deaf. 

 

Joy leapt within her as she solemnly replied, “I will not engage in harming myself in any way, nor will I deny myself sustenance.” 

 

With her vow secured, the angel did the unthinkable: he lowered his luminous head to brush the lightest kiss to her lips, humming soft praise in a language she couldn’t speak. The tears that threatened finally spilled down her cheeks in salty rivulets, completely unnoticed as they soaked into her hairline.

 

He placed a second heavenly kiss upon her brow and withdrew, a pair of soft black wings fanning over his stunning form. 

 

Her heart soared at the sight. _As if she needed proof of what he was._

 

His voice resonated through her mind once more, golden and pleasurable.  _I’ll return for you little vixen. Be a good girl for me while I’m gone._

 

The breath left her body at the intimate way he spoke to her. His words triggered a cascade of carnal scenes that were surely all wrong. They flashed through her mind like a deck of cards thrown to the wind, wickedness revealed for a split second before spinning out of her mind’s eye, leaving her blinking and startled.

 

He only smirked, giving her a look decidedly less-than-holy as he crouched low, muscles stacking beautifully. His wings flashed and he was gone, a blur of shadow rather than light. 

 

She lay there, staring quietly up at her ceiling, content to just _be_. 

 

Sometime later she became aware of the glorious scent of spices permeating her flat. Her mouth watered as her stomach made itself known. She arose from her bed wrapped in a cocoon of tranquility, meandering catlike into her kitchen. Several white bags sat upon her counter in a neat little row. 

 

Delight flooded through her as she unpacked dish after dish of her absolute favorites – butter chicken and malai kofta, vegetable jalfrezi and garlic naan. She experienced a little pang of joy when she unpacked the last item—a container of dreamy, cardamom-scented kheer pudding. 

 

Settling her naked body atop a barstool, she indulged in what somehow felt like a much-deserved feast, thinking of nothing other than the richly-flavored delicacies set before her like an offering.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The following afternoon found her struggling to control the tremor in her voice as she rattled off information to a travel agent, cradling the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she hastily tossed things into a suitcase. Her hands shook and it wasn’t due to the three cups of coffee she’d ingested earlier. Her life was unraveling at a frightening rate, and no amount of caffeine would remedy the disaster of her day.

 

The first shock had come with the unobtrusive ring of her phone. A lawyer named Mark L.S. Hamill called at ten in the morning to announce she’d had been named sole benefactor of an estate. He was brisk and authoritative, overriding her protests that it was impossible, sympathizing in a somewhat patronizing way that he’d seen it all and that her reaction was understandable. 

 

She was stunned into silence as he informed her that the probate had completed and that an outlandish sum of money was to transfer directly to her, along with the deeds to multiple properties and a yacht. 

 

 _A mothertrucking yacht._ If _Mark_ could have seen the look on her face, he’d have snort-laughed himself right out a window. 

 

The man continued in the way of one to whom time was money, pressing smoothly along with business. If she’d please arrange to swing by his office on 5th and Pine to sign with the notary, the transfer would be ready by the start of the week. 

 

She’d hung up in a daze, feeling like she’d just been steamrolled and pretty sure it was all some asshole’s idea of a joke.

 

_A very specific asshole- one whose name she refused to so much as think._

 

She made her way into the shower on the shaky legs of a newborn colt. The hot water washed over her, sapping some of her tension as she considered how to move forward. There really were only two courses of action. Under normal circumstances she wouldn't condone avoidance of her problems, but her situation was anything but normal. Scrubbing her skin vigorously, she worked out the logistics of an escape plan, prioritizing the few loose ends that should be dealt with before departure.

 

As she speed-dried herself, she glanced at the bruises on her throat and breasts. They were fading surprisingly fast but for one lurid red mark on the underswell of her left breast. It was fresher than the rest and she scowled at it, fastening her bra in a hurry and donning a white cashmere turtleneck and jeans. She distractedly pulled on a pair of maroon leather boots and rushed into the kitchen. Priorities were priorities – she refilled her to-go mug with espresso – _her caffeine addiction was code-fucking-red this morning_ – and snatched a camel pea coat before rushing out the door.

 

She hadn’t gained the street when the next blow came. 

 

Passing through her lobby, she chanced to see her landlord engaged with the maintenance director. Mr. Watto’s heavy-lidded eyes widened and he began to beam when he spotted her. He quickly cut off the conversation he was having and waved her over. 

 

Rey tried to suppress her frown as she joined him. Instead of his usual calculating air, the man was all-smiles.

 

“Miss Kanata!” he rasped in his thick accent, reaching out both hands to take one of hers and shake it vigorously. “My _warmest_ congratulations on becoming an _owner_ , and at your age–?”

 

Rey returned his shrewd stare with a shocked one of her own, unable to process a reply. “I, uh–”

 

Her landlord smiled broadly as he shook his head in surprise. “If I was a betting man, my money would have been on the wrong tenant. You settled the sum of your unit in _full_ – that’s impressive, no?! What’s your secret, eh?” He gave her a penetrating stare but her mind had flown to unholy places; all she could see was a set of intense eyes flashing their fatal red promise–– 

 

 _He’d bought her apartment outright...bought it in her name..._  

 

Her chest tightened as if she’d inhaled a lungful of smoke, and suddenly the need for fresh air was nonnegotiable. She retracted her hand from her landlord’s grasp with a nervous jerk and clumsily aimed for apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mr. Watto, I–I’m a bit late and really must g-go––” 

 

He paid no mind to her off behavior, bowling ahead with another round of congratulations. “Sure, sure, you can tell me some other time…”  

 

She lost the tailing end of his words as she beat a swift retreat. 

 

Stumbling out into the muted daylight, she slumped weakly against the cool stone of her building. _An owner– sum settled in full?! Fuck!_ She dry-sobbed, a single expulsion of breath that felt punched from her diaphragm. He had bought her place out from under her, and all in her name. She was sure the “inheritance” was his work as well, and all of it boded poorly. Worse than poorly.

 

Rey took deep breaths of air, ignoring the occasional concerned glance from passerby. The icy breeze off the sound had never been sweeter, and after a few moments, her legs felt sturdy enough to carry her. With her crumbling sanity as in place as it would get, she set a clipped pace down Second ave, heading to Rose’s office to let her know she was going to take a hiatus from work projects for the next few weeks. 

 

The day had gone from bizarre to spooky. It was, however, her visit with Rose that pushed it over the edge into the realm of truly fucked-up. 

 

The signs had been there from the start. 

 

As Rey scaled the wide stone steps, she spied John sitting at the security desk between the building’s dual glass doors. Despite how out-of-sorts she was, she smiled at her friend, looking forward to their teasing back-and-forth. Instead of their usual banter, John greeted her with a courteous nod. The familiar greeting stalled on her lips, and another stone of dread settled in her core as she entered the lobby in conspicuous silence.

 

Feeling distinctly unanchored, she took the elevator to the ninth floor and headed over to Rose’s department. Rose’s secretary looked up from her screen as Rey approached, and she greeted her, heading for Rose's open door. “Hey Julie. I'm in-and-out to speak with Rose--” 

 

Julie shot to her feet and darted in front of her. “Excuse me, ma’am!," she exclaimed, "you can’t just go in unannounced!” 

 

Rey gaped openly at her alarmed expression. _Ma’am?_ She was so surprised, she didn’t protest, numbly allowing Julie to point her back to the armchairs in the waiting area. 

 

Julie’s face was dubious as she watched Rey sit. “What’s your name, and what is your business with Miss Tico?” 

 

Her mouth felt like sandpaper and she swallowed, trying to wet it in vain. “Rey,” she said hoarsely, wishing she could muster an easy laugh. “Rey Kanata?” Julie continued to frown, still not registering who she was. “I–I’m an independent contractor on the formalization board, and Rose is my department lead,” she finished, her voice sounding weak in her own ears.

 

Julie didn’t bother to hide her skepticism, nodding wordlessly as she settled back at her desk. Rey stared straight ahead, seeing nothing as Julie phoned Rose to inform her of a visitor. 

 

A cold, fluid dread replaced the blood in her veins. The minutes felt like hours, and when Julie finally ushered her into Rose’s office, the worst shock of all awaited. 

 

She rounded the corner, her eyes wide as Rose, her project coordinator and only real friend, met her with a polite smile. The cordial sort that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, the kind that clearly says _we don’t know each other._  

 

Rey held tight to the back of the chair in front of her, unable to sit and needing a solid something to hold to. A fissure opened in her heart, and she couldn’t quite hold it together. “Rose,” she entreated, sounding like a lost child. “D-don’t you remember me?” 

 

Rose’s worried stare said it all. “I’m so sorry, but your name honestly doesn’t ring a bell at all,” she replied cautiously. 

 

She had always been a loner, and yet this sudden isolation tore at Rey, paining her in a way she could never have predicted. What was worse was how sweet her friend was, responding to her anguish with concern.

 

“Hey,” Rose coaxed, leaning forward across her desk when she saw Rey’s eyes begin to swim. “Hey, it’s okay. Please tell me how can I help?” 

 

Rey felt a lump in her throat at Rose's natural kindness. She didn’t treat her like she was totally nuts, actually trying to get her to stay and talk. It was too much. “I–I’m sorry,” Rey stuttered, the tears finally falling as she backed out of Rose’s office, “it’s my mistake.” 

 

Rose was at a loss for words, following her to the door with worry in her dark eyes. Rey turned away and beat a hasty exit, fleeing unrecognized through the NGO she’d contracted through for well over a year.

 

She couldn’t so much as glance at John as she passed the security desk on the way out, unable to take another reminder of the sudden anonymity imposed on her life. 

 

Ignoring the stares directed at her, she ran the seven blocks back to her apartment and then took the stairs. She cried her way up fifteen flights, her broken sobs and slurred curses echoing through the stairwell. 

 

Approaching her unit, she saw that someone had left an extravagant floral arrangement and card at the threshold of her door. 

 

Her slog up the stairs had her winded and she panted for air as she snatched up the envelope and viciously tore it open. 

 

The card inside featured an embossed picture of the Dexter Horton and was addressed to her in gilded gold: _Dear Rey Kanata, we are pleased to welcome you to the Owners Circle._..

 

It slipped from her frozen fingers, see-sawing lazily to the floor as she stood rooted in place. _What in the blue fucking blazes was he about?!_ “FUCK!!” she shrieked, kicking the flowers out of her way as she entered. 

 

That had been forty-five minutes ago. Panic became desperation as the puzzle pieces had all slotted into place. She’d torn through her apartment in a panic, packing what she needed as she hastened her escape. 

 

Nothing motivated like fear, and his designs were _terrifying_ – the sudden influx of money, her apartment purchased and paid-in-full, effectively resigning her from her job – absolving her of monetary responsibility. Erasing her identity. Isolating her.

 

Well, she’d be double-damned if she went along with that shit. There was _no fucking way_. 

 

She phoned Maz at last and was relieved to get her machine, unsure if even her adoptive mother would know her and unable to take it if she didn’t. There was also no way she’d be able to put on a good front while this upset, and Maz was crazy intuitive. It was hard enough to sound all sunny as she lied about taking an impromptu trip into the field. She said she’d call soon and finished by saying “I love you,” hoping it sounded nothing like the goodbye she felt in her heart.

 

Striding back to where her L. Vuitton lay open on the floor, she grabbed a bathing suit and hurled it in along with a sun hat. The swimming was good where she was going, and she had plans to drown her woes in the warm sea.

 

Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she felt her stomach lurch. The girl staring back at her had haunted eyes, the kind you see in PTSD victims who have lived through hell of one kind or another. A wave of dizziness washed over her. _Or another…_

 

The kaftan in her hands slipped from her fingers as she stood woozily, maintaining eye contact with her reflection as she walked over to the vanity. 

 

She looked deep into her own eyes, examining herself frankly, refusing to hide from the state she was in. “This isn’t you,” she told herself in a low voice. “You are _not_ a passive recipient of your own life. You don’t break, not for anyone, not for anything.” 

 

Determination returned. She repeated her mantra, the one that had always floated her in the past. “You move forward, one foot in front of the next. Always forward.” 

 

Her heart fortified in the wake of her pep talk, and she finished preparations feeling a bit more put together. She glanced around her place but didn’t linger long enough to let herself feel any sentimentality. Slipping a pair of Kate Spade torties over her eyes, she grabbed her suitcase and strode out. 

 

Passing through the doorway, she shot a withering glare at the scrawling red glyphs that marked her index finger before pulling on a pair of supple leather gloves. “Fuck this bullshit,” she muttered, “I’m out the door.”

 

 

***

Glossary/Notes:

 

Jewel of India in the U District of Seattle has hands down the BEST Indian food I’ve had anywhere. I mean _anywhere._ As if that’s not good enough, the owners, a husband-and-wife team, are honestly the sweetest most genuine souls you could hope to meet. You can straight-up taste the love in their food. Don’t be a goddamn fool. Just go there. And thank me by never ever mentioning this fic to them. :)

 


	10. Garden of Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The great escape, in which Rey regroups in the RL Garden of Eden. Like nearly all earthly paradises, this one comes with a snake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy meeting the Deceiver-In-Chief. ;)

 

Songspiration: [Dramamine,](https://youtu.be/tvqlt7OWTOk) Modest Mouse

 

* * *

 

Chapter 10: Garden of Eden

 

 

Rey spent the first half of the flight to Papeete making good use of the free Wifi. The second half, she dedicated to the unfamiliar pastime self-medication, courtesy of the unlimited liquor cabinet in first class. Prior to descending into alcohol-fueled numbness, hours of scouring the net had landed the information she sought: a small list of scholars renowned for their study of the demon occult and possession. As she’d assumed, most of them were located overseas, which well-suited her current modus operendi.

 

Resentment didn’t alter the truth that Rey had become a refugee. The streets of her own city were tainted, her sense of belonging skewed until the open road felt safer than the walls of her own home. The aspect of travel had been part of her motivation in pursuing a career in international affairs. Foreign places beckoned, offering a world of wonder to a child of little means, and now even _that_ pleasure was besmirched– overshadowed by the unavoidable fact that she ran from him.

 

Her living, breathing reality had become an Escher painting that only she was privy to. She stewed through the entire nine-hour flight, crunching viciously at the ice in her drink as she thought of the hubris of science and its frail disciplines, relying only upon what man, _in_ _his infinite wisdom,_ could prove. She cast dark looks at her fellow passengers, so put-together and self-assured – _all fucking blind_. How faulty it was that people trusted only what they could detect with their five senses, forget that only a week prior, she had been one of those logical thinkers. The kind that doesn’t jump at shadows or believe in ghosts, whiling away their days secure in their belief that man was the worst sort of monster. 

 

The most distressful thing was that Rey knew – knew with every last fiber of her being – that the things she’d seen was merely the tip of one gargantuan, royally fucked-up iceberg.

 

Of its own accord, her hand shot out to flag a dusky-skinned stewardess with a plumeria on her ear, not bothering to hide her desperation as she ordered another Sapphire and tonic. She was oblivious of the frown that pulled at her face as she slipped back into grim, brooding silence.

 

He was wearing her down. 

 

The stewardess returned with her drink, which she accepted like a lifeline. Sipping at the deceptively benign-tasting libation, a pang of darkness rippled through her, cold and prophetic. _Find a way,_ whispered that small voice, _Live long enough to find a way to make him pay for what he’s done to you.._. 

 

Dark thoughts continued to haunt her all the way over the equator and into the South Pacific. She had to be the gloomiest person ever to disembark the small, twin-engine otter that delivered guests to the ring of sand and trees that formed the atoll of Tetiaroa. 

 

A short ride on a solar-powered golf cart delivered her to the gracious lobby of the Brando where Rey was greeted with the perfect answer to the humidity: a fragrant ginger lei and an icy glass of Tahitian limeade. 

 

The lei bearer introduced herself as Tiare and informed her that she’d be her personal butler for the duration of her stay. The woman politely inquired if she was expecting company, pausing for just a beat at Rey’s lackluster response of, “I certainly hope not.” 

 

Her butler surreptitiously nodded, continuing with the check-in process as if it were a common occurrence for single young women to check-in alone, their eyes haunted and voices bereft of inflection.

 

After explaining the layout of the resort, the restaurants and available amenities, Tiare escorted her along a sandy path planted with the Tahitian gardenias that were her namesake. 

 

The cream-colored beach they skirted was a flawless, unending ribbon that stretched off into the distance before disappearing with the curve of the islet. Water like liquid glass lapped invitingly at the beach, the lagoon of the atoll so clear and sheltered, one could see each coral head, every fish or wandering sea turtle for miles around. 

 

The resort was situated along the shore, each private bungalow separated by lengthy thickets of _naupaka_ bushes and low-growing _hau_ trees. Tiare chatted amiably as they went, explaining some of the histories of the resort along with that of the atoll. Her butler was a quick study, refraining from asking her quiet young guest much about herself, and for that Rey was appreciative. 

 

It was a seven-minute walk to the _fare_ that was her temporary home, and Rey smiled, genuinely pleased when she saw that hers was the very last one, bordered by endless shoreline on one side.

 

The modern, airy cottage was as lovely as she’d heard, fronted by a rectangular personal swimming pool, which Rey thought excessive given the jaw-dropping ocean only a stone's throw away. 

 

Coconut trees swayed high overhead, their fronds rustling soothingly in the breeze, and the crystalline waters of the lagoon were framed by verdant _naupaka_ and _tiare_ bushes rife with angelic, white blossoms.

 

Rey’s eyes passed over all of it, soaking in the serenity as she felt her tension soften. She thanked Tiare, favoring her with a wane smile and excusing herself to settle in. 

 

* * *

 

Three days later found Rey in a somewhat improved mood. Tetiaroa lived up to its reputation, getting into her bloodstream with its pristine beaches and vibrant, cornflower skies. 

 

Mostly, she spent her time in or near the water, making good use of the healing properties of the sea. She snorkeled and paddled, exploring the colorful coral heads that dotted the lagoon, and in the afternoons took long, exploratory walks along the surreal coastline. 

 

Invariably, her thoughts would turn to him as she revisited the conversations they’d had. She’d pour over details as her mind fought to stay subjective, holding at bay the frustration and awe and fear that accompanied thoughts of him. 

 

Even with all she’d been through, her emotional reaction vexed her, especially when it rose to create a din too loud for rational thought. _Save it, Rey,_ she’d tell herself, reclining on a hammock over gentle seas. _Save it for when he’s here and it’s entirely warranted. Don’t let it get in the way of figuring this shitshow out._

 

But even her tough-love pep talks weren’t enough to soothe the fear that she might not be able to alter or undo what had been done. 

 

She’d cursed herself, of that she was sure. Visions of him haunted her sleep. The scene was ever the same: her dream-self standing bare and supplicant before the beast, her face serene and aggravatingly unaware of the threat he posed. Her voiceless warnings went unheeded as she watched the insidious creep of his hands begin to map her naked curves, taking what she so willingly offered. 

 

She tasted the discarnate forbidden, bartering pieces of her soul for each kiss he bestowed, her head lolling bonelessly on her shoulders, body arching as he plunged into her core. Red eyes scalding her skin as he fucked her with jarringly decadent strokes. _Taking. Leading her to that place where all she wanted to do was sacrifice herself to his darkness._

 

These dreams unraveled her, leaving her shaken and conflicted in the gentle light of morning. Wanting him was condemnation, a direct afront to her already-besieged sense of dignity and pride, and _it couldn’t stand._ She had to take action. So, like any logical thinker who required change, she’d accepted that there was a problem...ignore the fact that hers happened to be _a bit more dire_ than the usual culprits to plague humankind. He was real, he was upending her life, and he wasn’t going to go away.

 

The next step was addressing this unholy, totally-fucked up bond-thing. In order to plot a course of action, she needed more information on a subject she knew virtually nothing about. Did accounts of such happenings exist somewhere in the world? What had been done, if anything? What were the outcomes? Never had she been more motivated, whittling her list of authorities in the occult and composing emails to the two most prominent leads, one in Rome and the other in Istanbul. 

 

Along with her plea for assistance and information, Rey had attempted to include photos of her branded left pointer finger. She was dismayed but unsurprised to find that film was unable to capture anything but a perfect, unmarred finger. Over the course of the week, she’d found the monster’s claim to be true: no one around her could see the scarlet writing that inscribed her flesh. After many frustrating tries, she’d managed to sketch a passable rendition of the arcane lettering, which was a feat considering her writing hand was the aggrieved appendage. She included the attachment in her email inquiries, hoping it would lend her claim credibility or provide a substrate for more pertinent information. 

 

Each passing day that he hadn’t shown up to torment her was its own sort of vacation. His continued absence fueled her fantasy that maybe he wouldn’t find her here, that there was a way to exist unmolested by him. Her current surroundings were so sublime, it wasn’t hard to entertain such whimsy. How could an abomination exist in a place so heavenly?

 

Late afternoon on day four found her in high enough spirits to eschew room service and emerge briefly from her hermetic existence. 

 

She walked the path that wound through the landscaped grounds back to the resort itself, making her way to the more casual of the three restaurants. 

 

The Beachcomber was composed of a single large, pavilion with a thatched roof under which sat a bar and mesquite-fired grill. Half of the tables were arranged in the shade with the others scattered about in the open, allowing guests to soak in the sun. Teak bench swings with aqua cushions hung from the rafters, swaying beckoningly.

 

Settling into a seat at the edge of the pavilion, she scanned the horizon, admiring the distant waves that broke on the protective fringing reef. The undersides of the fluffy white clouds over the lagoon were a whimsicle aqua green, reflecting the mezmerizing color of the water below. A light breeze soothed her sun-kissed skin, stirring the hem of the palm-print kaftan she wore as she kicked off her sandals and burrowed her feet into pale sand. 

 

Feeling relaxed, she glanced around the open-air restaurant, appreciating that the tables around her were only half-filled. It was one of the things that drew her to the property – it hosted only thirty-five bungalows, assuring her of lots of space no matter where she went, or what time of day. 

 

One of the beautiful, dark-eyed Tahitian waiters came around, and Rey ordered what had quickly become an obsession: coconut lime ceviche with microgreens and baguette crisps. 

 

She looked up in surprise when her server returned and, with a gracious smile, placed a pale yellow cocktail before her. “On behalf of the gentleman,” he said, gesturing to a conspicuously pale, broad-shouldered man sitting in the sun by himself. 

 

Rey scanned his profile, her suspicion waning as she took him in. He looked to be in his mid to late sixties, the picture of a bygone era in a Panama hat and classic off-white suit, styled more for the Caribbean and in complete disregard of Tahiti’s humidity. A dark-papered cigarillo dangled from his fingers, the blue smoke catching the sunlight and adding to his charisma. 

 

His body was stiff as he turned to acknowledge her, moving at the waist rather than neck as he lifted his own identical drink in salute. She nodded politely and returned his brief smile, raising her drink in return. His hat and sunglasses didn’t quite conceal a distinctive vertical scar that ran the right side of his temple and clipped his eyebrow, and Rey found herself curious.

 

Due in part to her time with Unkar, she was adept at picking up on people with less-than-noble intentions, and this eclectic-looking fellow felt legitimately non-creepy. She watched him a moment longer before inspecting the drink in front of her. The hurricane glass was garnished with a violet orchid and topped with a dark brown sprinkling of something. 

 

She pulled the decorative orchid from the rim and sucked the stem discretely. It tasted amazing, and she thoughtlessly tucked the orchid behind an ear as she brought the rim to her lips. Her intrigue deepened as she caught the fragrance of freshly shaved nutmeg. A sip yielded the taste of coconut and pineapple, which, along with the spice was exceptionally refreshing. Whatever alcohol was present was expertly cloaked by the meld of flavor and fragrance.

 

She looked up and studied her pale benefactor a moment longer before doing something well outside her character. Standing with her drink in hand, she approached his table, padding through the sand to thank him in person. 

 

He caught her approach in his peripherals and turned, stiffly making to stand.

 

“Please don’t get up,” she said, raising a palm. “I just needed to thank you; this is _very_ good.” She jiggled the ice in her drink and offered a crooked smile. “You’re too kind, Mr…?”

 

“Skywalker,” he replied, his voice a deep, resonant baritone that was distractingly lovely. “ _Anakin_ Skywalker.”

 

Rey was silent a beat longer than was polite, watching her own surprised reflection in his mirrored sunglasses. His voice was extraordinary, the sound of it blanketing her mind in warm honey. “Uh,” she shook herself, abashed by her awkward start. _Jeez, Rey, pull your head outa your ass!_ “Wow, that’s uh, that’s quite a name you have.” 

 

He ignored her off behavior, chuckling ruefully. “It is a little different in these parts. You could say my parents were out-of-this-world,” he drawled, forming a one-handed air quote. “But please,” he continued, smoothly gesturing to the empty chair next to him, “call me Ani, and have a seat if you wish.”

 

Rey faltered a moment. The man had one of the most captivating voices she’d ever heard, and the crazy thought that she might like to extend their encounter just to hear him speak further passed through her head. She watched a small smile play at the corners of his mouth, as if he knew her thoughts and found them amusing. 

 

Settling into the chair, she extended her left hand. “So nice to meet you, Ani. I’m Rey.”

 

He reached over to shake her hand, holding her a beat longer than was necessary as he stared at where her hand was captured within his own. 

 

Rey grew puzzled as the moment lengthened. _Was it possible? Did he see the script on her finger?_ It was hard to tell exactly where he was looking with the way his sunglasses shielded his gaze.

 

As soon as she thought it, the moment was over and he released her with a charming smile. “Rey, you say? Why yes, you shine with the light of the sun, my dear. It is a fitting name for you indeed.” 

 

Astonishingly, she found herself blushing. Her whole life, she’d had to endure the whole “ray-of-light” thing ad nauseam, but something about his delivery and that warm, lyrical voice melted her. She ducked her head down, struggling to find her normally unflappable composure. “So um, tell me what it is we’re drinking,” she tried, taking another sip.

 

He dragged leisurely off his cigarette, exhaling a fragrant cloud of smoke that the breeze carried in her direction. “Am I to believe that this is your first _Painkiller_?” he asked in a scandalized tone.

 

“It is. But don’t feel so special about it,” she cautioned, wrinkling her nose in a mock-grimace. “You could order me near anything from the bar and it would be my first. I’ve only recently begun to imbibe.” 

 

He turned to look her straight on with raised brows, pausing as he considered her. “Now what am I supposed to make of a statement like that? I’m not sure whether to congratulate you or give my condolences.”

 

She laughed self-deprecatingly. “I think a little of both are fair,” she murmured, sipping her drink as she gazed out on the cerulean tapestry of the bay. “I see,” he said, nodding sagely. 

 

The smoke from his cigarillo continued to creep in her direction. She’d hated the thick, caustic stench of Plutt’s cigars, how he’d smoke in closed rooms, subjecting her and any other unfortunates to the acrid stench. It had shaped her dislike of secondhand smoke, but somehow, her unexpected companion’s cigarette was a departure. It smelled exotic, like the cloves Maz liked to stud oranges with during the holidays.

 

“What are you smoking?” she asked, breathing in the spicy scent.

 

“It’s a _kretek_ , my dear. And don’t you dare ask me for one,” he added. “How could I have known when I sent you that drink that I was an unwitting party to the corruption of an innocent soul?” He looked remorsefully up to the sky with exaggerated drama. “I won’t be responsible for any further sullying of your character, young lady. The good Lord _knows_ I’ve done _enough_ already.”

 

She giggled, amused at his sarcastic sense of humor. “I’m sure I can find my way downwards without one little drink making much of a difference.”

 

“Touché,” he murmured, his even, white teeth flashing in a subtle smirk. “Now tell me in all seriousness, what’s one such lovely lady as yourself doing in a place like this unaccompanied?”

 

“Is it so hard to believe that a girl might enjoy traveling alone?!” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

 

“Why no, of _course_ not,” he replied placatingly. “But here? Look around and all you see are couples and families.” He smiled, exhaling a drag of fragrant smoke that wreathed them in a sunlit cloud. “And then, there’s the matter of your flower,” he added, nodding at the orchid on her ear.

 

“My _flower?_ ” Her fingers reached up to touch where she’d tucked it.

 

“Indeed. It sits on your left ear, yet here you are without a beau.” Taking in the blank look on her face, he explained. “In Tahiti and other Polynesian locales, the placement of the flower is meaningful. A blossom on the right indicates no romantic involvement. Worn on the left is a signal that you are taken.”

 

“Oh no, I most definitely am _not_ taken,” she stated a little too forcefully, switching the orchid over to her right ear. She fidgetted, hating how unconvincing she sounded in her own ears.

 

“This place,” he continued, “it isn’t a big draw for singles, and surely you’ll admit that business is unusual in such a lovely and isolated locale.” 

 

Rey took another sip, staring at him with dawning amusement over the rim of her glass. He didn’t wear a ring. “You’re so right. How is it then, that _you_ happen to be here all by yourself?” she asked sweetly, sitting back and folding her arms triumphantly.

 

He too sat back, gazing at her with a little, satisfied smile. “Why, I’m here to meet you, of course,” he nonchalantly murmured.

 

Said by so many others, it might’ve been creepy, but the spellbinding rumble of his voice and his subdued confidence pulled it off perfectly, and she laughed aloud. It didn’t even occur to her how odd it was that she was so comfortable around him, as if they’d known each other for a good, long while. 

 

“You’re quite the charmer,” she accused, shaking her head.

 

“I try,” he said, “but in all truth, my flirtations are harmless, my dear. They are residual echoes of a boy far in my taillights.” Rey quirked a brow at him, watching as he lifted the discarded orchid from his drink, tucking it behind his left ear with a crooked smile. “I lost my wife long ago, and my heart remains in her care,” he murmured, puffing on his cigarillo and gazing out over the still lagoon. 

 

Rey felt a pang of sorrow for him, unable to imagine what it was to be in his shoes. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she muttered, feeling a bit relieved as the server arrived to deliver her meal. 

 

He waved her off. “Don’t be. It was long ago, and it’s good she isn’t here to see what I’ve amounted to–” he broke off and smiled faintly, “–an old devil steeped in degeneracy.”

 

Her mouth opened to protest his self-assessment, but she was waylaid by the _Poisson Cru_ that was set before her, a decadent showcase of French Polynesian bounty spilling artfully from a halved coconut. The lush fragrance of lime zest and cut chives arose and she felt a small twinge in her cheek as her mouth flooded with want.

 

Rey totally missed the discrete way her companion signaled for a second round of drinks, fixated as she was with the enticement set before her. Taking that first heavenly bite, she forgot herself completely as the creamy, piquant mixture hit her tongue. Tender chunks of marinated fish and the lush crunch of vegetables. Coconut milk laced with fresh ginger, the sharp bite of lime. She moaned softly, utterly unabashed.

 

She’d devoured at least half of the dish before she roused from her descent into gluttonous pleasure. Glancing up with wide eyes, she found him watching her with a contented look, slowly exhaling streams of bluish smoke through his nostrils, a dragon in human guise. 

 

“Mmh, please,” she managed, spooning some of the mixture onto a baguette crisp and offering it. “Have some of the ceviche. If you couldn’t tell, it’s a life changer that no one should miss.” 

 

He shook his head, still smiling that mysterious smile. “Alas, my dear, I must decline. I thrive on vice, you see, and proper sustenance is anathema to my health.” 

 

She shrugged, reclaiming the offering with an enthusiastic crunch. “Your loss,” she said, pausing mid-chew to flash a sheepish smile at the server who stopped to deliver two fresh cocktails.

 

“Why no,” he answered a little distantly, his gaze following a flamebearer who moved from torch to torch, lighting the wicks of each with a small puff of ignition. “It isn’t a loss at all. You must keep up your strength, my dear girl.” 

 

She glanced up, watching the dance of flames in his mirrored lenses. _Such an odd thing to say_. Her chewing slowed as she turned his statement over in her mind. 

 

“But let me answer your question of earlier,” he said smoothly, moving the moment into the past with the ease of a seasoned politician. “You wondered what brought me to Tetiaroa. I come here to escape the demons that plague me at home,” he said, his voice bereft of any of its former teasing. “This place has a magical way of separating cares from the weary, wouldn’t you say? Marlon knew what he was doing when he decided to plunk a resort down on this remote little atoll.”

 

He raised his glass in a toast. “Cheers to the distinguished old bastard,” he declared. 

 

“Cheers to Mr. Brando,” Rey giggled, taking a deep drink. 

 

“And you? Have you visited before?” he asked, cocking his head at her.

 

“I can’t say that I have,” she admitted. “I told my travel agent what I was after, and she recommended it.” Rey considered him for a moment before speaking. “I suppose you could say that I too am here to escape. It’s good to be in the company of another refugee,” she said amiably, finishing the last of her drink and frowning at it in surprise. Her cheeks felt flushed, and her head was buzzing pleasantly.

 

He made to flag down their server but she stopped him with a forbidding look. “Absolutely not!” she exclaimed. “I know for a fact I’ve never gone through two rounds so fast. These things go down waaay too easy.” 

 

“Hence the name,” he drawled, smiling lazily. 

 

“Agreed, and warranted!” she laughed, getting to her feet. “Ani, it's been a delight but you must excuse me. If I stay, they’ll have to cart me back to my cottage.” She reached for his hand, her eyes again drawn to that scar over his right eye. “I've enjoyed the Painkillers and your company even more.”

 

He stood to full height, his large frame unfolding with a lumbering stiffness. “As you say, my dear. It’s been a pleasure getting to know you.” 

 

Red glinted off his sunglasses and her stomach flip-flopped uneasily. _Surely just the torches..._  

 

Ani smiled genially. “It’s a small world. I’m sure we’ll meet again,” he said, releasing her and returning to his seat.

 

“I certainly hope so,” she said, recovering enough to grace him with a wobbly return smile before departing without a backward glance.

 

***

 

Glossary of Terms 

 

Tiare: Tahitian gardenia, very fragrant and celebrated all over the Pacific

Naupaka: A thick bush with vibrant spring green foliage. Grows along the beaches of Tahiti and Hawaii.

Fare: Tahitian word for house

Ceviche: Fish or seafood cooked in citrus juice, usually lime juice. The Tahitian version is called Poisson Cru and is accompanied by coconut milk. Delicious.

Kretek: A clove cigarette

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter of pure, driven sin is forthcoming. Patience, my Thirsties! <3


	11. Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's Tahitian escape comes to a dramatic end. Kylo turns up, dashing Rey's hopes of using distance as a means to evade their bond. He dresses her properly before leading her out for a midnight swim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut lovers rejoice. I got carried away and wrote you 5.5K of filth. Please note I've updated tags above to reflect what follows. 
> 
> Also, a disclaimer about the depictions of sex in this chapter. This is fantasy play; it is not meant to honor real life **at all, whatsoever.** As I'm sure you're all aware, I take tons of liberties with sexual descriptions in this story, and all of them are improbable, on purpose. So yeah. Don't try this the way I write it and repeat after me: safe, sane, consensual, and for the love of all things holy (hehe), lubricated properly. 
> 
> That is all! <3

 

* * *

 

 

Chapter Songspiration: St. South, [Slacks](https://youtu.be/ehOBUzc532s</p>)

So many excellent versions of Sea of Love! I know many prefer Cat Power, but the island allure of the ukulele and slight melancholy of the vocal duo made this version perfect for my purposes: Lily & Madeleine, [Sea of Love](https://youtu.be/DaBRoEvOiSM%C2%A0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ch 11: Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea 

 

The sun set fast in the tropics, the warm darkness of night following close behind. The path back to her bungalow was already lit with small landscaping lights and merrily flickering tiki torches. Rey’s head was all abuzz and her body felt light thanks to the rum. _Painkillers._ Could there be a more aptly named drink to fit her current need? The corner of her mouth twitched in morbid amusement.

 

She was on day four and still no sign of him. _Maybe he was like a vampire and couldn’t cross bodies of water or the equator or something. Or maybe she’d finally up and lost it._ She smiled, nervously stretching her arms up over her head and thinking alcohol-fueled thoughts: that insanity was a fair price for freedom, coaching herself to soak in the mild night and not think about the future. Hope was a magical thing, tenuous and frail and easy to believe in while surrounded by such unreal beauty.

 

Arriving at her cottage, she paused to pluck a tiare blossom, inhaling the heady scent as she bounded up the three stairs and entered the french doors. 

 

She passed through swiftly darkening rooms and beelined for her bedroom, flopping joyfully down on the memory foam mattress. “Play island magic playlist,” she commanded, bringing the bedside speaker to life. The pillar-shaped speaker cast an ambient glow and the charming strum of an ukulele filled the room. She lay there, smiling happily before noticing that her ears were ringing slightly. 

 

The alcohol had gone to her head, and she desperately needed to hydrate and find a toothbrush and toothpaste. _Up you go_ , she coached, discarding her kaftan and slipping clumsily into a white cotton eyelet nightgown. She guzzled a glass of water and sashayed her way to the bathroom, not caring an inch that it was still early. 

 

The song playing was a wistful, stripped-down rendition of an old love song, and she hummed the familiar tune, swaying a little as she brushed her teeth. A second glass of water and she was falling into the stellar memory foam bed. “Showers are for the morning,” she mumbled into her pillow, then, belatedly, “lights and music off.” The island sounds of crickets and steady murmur of the sea filled her ears, lulling her into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

 

When next she awoke, the shadows had abandoned their bluish tinge in favor of the blackness of true night. The ocean’s rhythmic susurration continued, but something was amiss. Her heart hiccupped in her chest as she listened in stillness, realizing that the incessant chirp of crickets had fallen silent. 

 

In her room, darkness gathered itself in a vacuum, and she slowly raised her head to meet the red stare of the demon at its center. 

 

He stood, a silent sentry watching her sleep. Fear deadened her muscles with a heavy ache. _Was it a dream?_ Her hand stole to her outer thigh and she stealthily pinched, biting her lip at the pain. With a defeated thump, she lay her head back down, fighting the urge to cry like a child.

 

_He’d found her._

 

Her thoughts, like the rest of her, were not sacred. _Of course, my dearest,_ came his scoffing reply. 

 

She stiffened as his voice filled her head, low and toxic and evocative of all she wished she could forget. 

 

_It’s part of the blood bond that ties us. I’ll always be able to find you, no matter how far you flee or how often you run._

 

The air left her body with a soft hiss of sorrow. 

 

At last, he broke the stillness of the room, solidifying her nightmare into reality. “Such a lovely destination you've chosen,” he mused, “I couldn’t have done better myself.”

 

“Piss- _the-fuck-_ off,” she breathed, her voice weak. 

 

“Ah, Rey. My little spitfire, how I’ve missed you,” he replied with a shark-like smile she could only just make out in the dimness. “Come here. I have a gift.” 

 

Her eyes flew to him and she saw that something dangled in shimmering ropes from one hand. “I want nothing from you,” she declared, her voice low and passionate. “Not now, not ever. Go – and leave me in peace.”

 

“Now, angel, that’s no way to greet your lover,” he chided lightly. “I’ve done nothing but think of you day and night, crossed oceans to be with you and taken pains to dress you in jewels… and you see fit to reject me?” He tsked, and the timbre of his voice dropped ominously. “Your behavior is in need of remediation.” 

 

He lowered his head, eyes lit up as they narrowed at her. “Now, come. Here.” His finger crooked once and a force seized her body, pulling it from beneath the sheet. She yelped helplessly as she was drawn through the air to where he stood and set on her feet, quivering before him in fear and shock. 

 

He stared her down with those dark eyes, drawing the moment out, letting her mind writhe in dreadful anticipation of whatever he had planned. 

 

When at last he spoke, she detected a note of fondness that burned her like salt in a wound. “This place has worked its magic on me, and I have a taste for your compliance,” he murmured, and she cringed as his massive hand stroked her cheek. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noted the twisting designs inked over the back of his fingers. “I’ll have it from you one way or another; the how of it is up to you.” 

 

Her mouth opened, voice failing as he lifted an exceptionally long strand of black pearls over her head, looping it once, twice, three times, and still the longest loop hung down past her navel. She watched him with wide eyes as he dipped low, lifting each foot to balance on one of his knees, fastening a short strand about each ankle. Satisfied, he arose to cuff her wrists with a triple strand of the glossy, dark jewels. 

 

He stood back and considered her, cocking his head a little. “You are exquisite. There’s only one thing we can improve upon,” he said cryptically, closing in once again.

 

His fingers crept beneath the straps of her cotton shift. She averted her eyes, her breath catching in her throat as he continued with the pretense of civility, delicately slipping them off her shoulders, letting the loose garment fall from her body.

 

She stood bared wearing naught but pearls. They shone in the dimness, draping over her breasts, concealing nothing. She stared down at herself dumbly, fingers brushing over the lustrous strands at her wrists. Beautiful, but her heart sank, for she knew them for what they were. _Glorified chains._

 

He chuckled at her thoughts. “You wear them now no matter what earthly things you adorn yourself with.” 

 

One enormous hand cupped her face, thumb tracing under her jaw as he tipped her head up to meet his stare. “You _are_ mine,” he stated mildly, his hands pulling her hair free from the ropes of pearls at the back of her neck.

 

He paused a beat, a ghostly frown appearing on his features. One of his fingers snagged a lock of her hair and he lifted it to his nose. Puzzlement lit through her as he inhaled deeply, gazing at her with a loaded stare.

 

An inscrutable _something_ kindled in his eyes and his brows shot up. “Had some company recently?”  

 

Her mind stumbled as much over the question as it did his inquiring tone. She watched him turn his head to the lock of her hair and inhale again. _Could he--? Could he smell...smoke on her?_ “Yes,” she answered slowly, frowning as she mirrored his motion, lifting her hair to her nose. There it was; the spicy, exotic fragrance of clove cigarettes. “Yes, I did,” she repeated, scowling. “A lovely gentleman.”

 

He reacted in a way she would never have predicted, bursting into mirthful laughter, the sound startling the quiet in her bungalow. She gawked at him open-mouthed, her ire spiking, sure that she’d never seen him so genuinely amused.

 

His eyes were actually watering when he sobered. “And was he refined? Did he treat you with civility, as a perfect lady?”

 

“Yes!” she spat, pushed to the end of her wits by his mockery. “As a matter of fact, he sure fucking _did!_ He was more a gentleman than you could ever be!” All of a sudden, a red fury welled up, flooding her brain and robbing her of all thought and all reason, of everything but the need to make him _hurt_. “Hellspawn!” she shrieked, spittle flying from her lips as her palm flashed up, lightning quick. She struck his cheek hard enough to make her palm sting, and his head whipped aside with a ringing slap. 

 

Grim satisfaction soothed the anger that still simmered high. She’d got him good. The slight curve of his lips registered in the murkiness; he was smiling, enjoying her violence like one savors a fine vintage. Instantly her seething fury cooled, sputtering out as he turned back to face her with a wicked look. The air punched from her lungs and the room spun as her body moved through space. She grunted as a hard surface materialized at her back, stopping her trajectory. Opening her eyes, she found herself up against the wall, hemmed in by his body with her wrists pinned at her sides.  

 

He didn’t move but gazed at her a long while, a sardonic smile on his full lips. His body burned hot against hers, even through the clothes he wore. When he finally replied, it was quiet, a low purr. “You have no idea, do you, little vixen...” He shook his head incrementally, and she started when his massive hands dwarfed her rib cage. 

 

Her arms twitched as she tried to raise her pinned wrists to no avail, unable to prevent the creep of his hands up her body. The pearls clinked together, a lustrous curtain that parted as he cupped the underside of her breasts. She swallowed the whimper that threatened as his thumbs slid up, stroking slowly back and forth over her budding nipples, leaving tingling skin in their wake.

 

“No idea how good you have it,” he continued, continuing to thumb one breast as his other hand dropped to cup the whole of her sex. His fingers began to press as he rubbed his heat into her, his movements causing her clit to throb. “And how could you?” he mused, conversational as he worked her in circles. She swallowed reflexively, closing her eyes as she felt that first telltale slickness wet her nether lips. 

 

He rumbled suggestively, a deep purr from the depths of his throat. Mortification set in as he continued to rub, a little harder now, more vigorously, filling the silence with the subtle, mortifying sound her wet flesh sliding. Still, he refrained from addressing what he was doing, using her own body as a tool of punishment as he continued to air his thoughts. 

 

“Once again, I find you in need of a reality check. A comparison is wanting. When we return, we’ll pay a visit to the _Akeldama,_ where you may observe other mortals who are enthralled. It’s the only way you’ll ever know how special you are, how very good you have it.” 

 

A wave of nausea rolled through her, and she pinched her eyelids together even tighter. The last time he’d stated that she needed something to compare to he’d been merciless, taking her amidst a forest of horrors she’d give every last dime she owned to forget. “Wh-what’s the Akel–”

 

“Look at me!” he said sharply. 

 

She obeyed instantly as his hand closed around her throat. He drew close, lips inches from hers as she stared into the unblinking, ravenous void of his eyes. His teeth flashed, white and sharp in the gloom, and the static crackle of energy ghosted over her skin.

 

“I’ve _never_ taken another,” he growled threateningly. “I have no use for the roving herds with their pathetic chants and nauseating subservience.” His grip on her groin tightened. “You break the status quo. _You_ , Rey, are the first, and you _will_ be my last.”

 

Her head felt weightless, hollow upon the column of her neck, as if her spirit was half-fled. She wouldn’t, couldn’t analyze what it meant. Not here, in this moment. Not as he released her and stepped back, leaving her body cold. Not with the certainty of debasement flaring molten-hot in his eyes.

 

His finger caught in a loop of the pearls adorning her breast and he pulled, unwavering in his intensity. Dread escalated in her mind as the necklace slithered elegantly over her throat with a subtle clicking. When it was taut, he gave it a little tug, like a jockey twitching the reins of his mount. “Come,” he commanded, releasing her wrists as he turned toward the door.

 

She bridled and stood fast, projecting as much dignity as she could muster. _I am NOT your fucking pet._

 

The menace about him swarmed, thick and dark as he turned back to face her. His eyes flared red in the darkness of her room, and she felt a knot come undone, her fight scattering in the light of those hellish coals.

 

“ _Come with me_ ,” he snarled, each word grating like a whetstone on metal. “Come with me or I’ll _not_ muffle your screams. Are you aware of how sound carries over water? Your pleas for mercy will sail across the sea like little winged nightmares...rousing the sleepers on nearby islands.”

 

She huffed softly, choking back a sob as he again gave another pull, rougher this time. Her neck jerked bonelessly forward and she complied, letting him lead her through the darkened _faré_ and out into the balmy night. She breathed choppily, failing to calm the storm of emotion contained in her breast. 

 

The night was rife with the perfume of the tiare, and beneath that, the mineral scent of sand and ocean. He lead her past the mirrored surface of her plunge pool to the edge of the naupaka bushes. There at the edge of the beach, he paused to divest himself of what clothes he wore. 

 

She stared at him with glassy eyes, feeling shell-shocked. How badly she’d wanted to believe that this idyllic paradise could never house the presence of such pure, unbridled evil. And yet here he was, the stealthily inked designs on his chest and arms glaring back at her, his naked perfection framed by the strip of white sand and darkened waters of the lagoon. 

 

 _And here she thought she knew how fucked this world was._  

 

“You have _so_ much to learn,” he murmured, tightening his fist so that the pearls cinched around her throat with a dainty rattle. 

 

There was no moon in the sky, just thousands upon thousands of stars to bear indifferent witness as the demon led her to the ocean’s edge. 

 

The sand was cool beneath her feet as she trudged after him, staring despondently at how the wide bridge of his shoulders was adjoined by marvelously sculpted lats. Her mind wondered stupidly where his wings sprouted from, and how wonderful it would be to have that power _right now._  

 

She jolted as the sea washed over her feet, warm and alive. Looking down, she was surprised to see an electric-blue sparkle to the water. The sight of bioluminescence momentarily roused her from her misery, and she stared as each disturbance they made mapped itself in vibrant, glowing ripples. 

 

All at once, his voice broke the silence, low and melodic. _“Come with me––my-yy love—to the sea, the sea of love…”_

 

Her head jerked up and she stared in mute horror. It was the song she’d heard earlier that night, when she was alone and at the height of her optimism that maybe, just maybe, she might have found freedom. Her frail hopes of evasion were already in tatters, but this––

 

 _“I-I wanna tell ya, how much—I love you…”_ He didn’t look back as he sang, a tall, dark presence leading her ever deeper.

 

Self-pity waned as true despair flooded in. _She’d never be free of him_. She swallowed the overwhelming urge to sob as his words twisted in her mind, making a mockery of their situation. 

 

Warm water closed over her knees as internal alarms blared. _What the hell was he going to do?_ The pearls tinkled and tugged at her throat, his rough, sonorous voice causing goosebumps to rise in defiance of the comfortable temperature. 

  

_“Do you remember the day we met...that was the day—I knew you were my pet…”_

 

Deeper. The vibrant water swirling as it closed over her hips.

 

_“I-I wanna tell ya, how much—I love you…”_

 

Even deeper, her breath becoming erratic as the sea lapped at the undersides of her breasts. 

 

At last, he stopped and turned to face her, drawing close so that her breasts met the solid planes of his pectorals. With the same tenderness a parent shows their child, he gathered her hair into one hand, moving unhurriedly as he hummed the tune. She began to hyperventilate as he applied pressure, slowly pulling her head back. The erect shaft of his cock bumped at her beneath the surface, and as his hand slid about her lower back, she caved to her fright. 

 

“Kylo!” His name burst forth in a desperate sob. 

 

“Hush,” he scolded, the amusement clear in his tone. “You’re not allowed to sound that broken– not _yet_.” 

 

Her nails sank into his biceps as he pulled her head back, bowing her body, the night sky filling her vision. She lost sight of him, whimpering as the sea kissed her scalp, and a breathless moment later she jolted as his lips slid over a bared nipple. She hated the startled cry that tore forth as he attacked her breasts, and she vented her emotion with the scratch of her nails. He was neither quiet nor elegant, slurping and licking, _feeding_ at her while keeping her folded backward in a nearly unbearable arch. 

 

She felt the water glide over her body as he pulled her along, her legs drifting behind her when it became too deep to stand. 

 

Terror warred with pleasure, swirling in a reckless mix, too potent to contain. “Please!” The word burst forth, venting her fright even as her core throbbed. _Be gentle with me,_ she silently added, not wanting to say it aloud.

 

He laughed softly, _the bastard,_ laughed as he released her hair. Her back ached as it uncurled, and she flew upright as his massive hands closed around her waist, making it clear she wasn’t going anywhere. They were in deep enough that she knew she couldn’t stand, though it was impossible to tell if he was treading water to keep them afloat. The terror of drowning added to her fright, and though she was a strong swimmer, she held no qualms that he could drag her under with a crook of his finger. 

 

She clung to his biceps instinctively, her wide eyes riveted on him as she tried to anticipate his next move. His hands had slid up to engulf her ribcage, and he squeezed her gently, almost as if he were curious. “So fragile, so delicate,” he mused, before looking up, gazing over her shoulder at the pale stretch of beach at her back. His attention lingered on the shore, eyes flashing a carnivorous red before returning to their usual blackness. The tiniest smirk pulled at his lips, as if he savored a dark little secret. “A rare prize, indeed,” he murmured to himself, so low she almost missed it.

 

The moment ended as he shifted his focus squarely back to her, ducking his head against her chest. She bit her lip, heart hammering as he licked a hot stripe up her throat as he sank lower in the sea. “Fragile – but you’re tougher than you look, Rey,” he purred, nipping at her earlobe, tightening his hold on her. “I think you’ll survive what I’m about to give.” 

 

In a single move, he lifted her higher as he plunged underwater. The surface swirled a vibrant blue around her breasts as she was held aloft by her unseen captor. She blinked stupidly at the dark surface where his head had disappeared before shrieking as he began to rearrange her submerged legs. She felt like a toy in his hands as he manipulated her, pulling and tugging at her lower limbs. The silky curtain of his hair brushed her belly, then all thought obliterated as his hands tightened on her hips, holding her still for the spear of his tongue.  

 

Her cry of denial split the night as she began to thrash against him. Bioluminescence sparkled as she fought, the cold light dancing in a vivid wash around her chest and torso. She whimpered at the sensation of being fucked, sight unseen. Every part of him was concealed beneath the surface, and any passerby would only see her struggling silhouette, lit by starlight and the quick flash of bioluminescence. 

 

The rhythmic thrust of his tongue continued to alchemize her distress, compounded by the thumb that now rubbed lazily at her clit. She moaned lowly, despondently, locking her arms against the stacked muscles of his shoulders. His growl was something she felt rather than heard, and she shivered in unsanctioned pleasure as his thumbs spread her apart, clearing the way for his tongue. He plied her flesh with long stripes from her taint up to her sensitive peak, pausing every so often to delve into her slickened channel, as if he just couldn’t stop himself.

 

His hands were everywhere – kneading tense muscles, thumbing at her cunt, and now, as his mouth latched against her clit, stroking the ring of muscle between her buttocks. 

 

She keened, alarm renewed as she struggled in the vise of his hands. His teeth nipped warningly at her nub, followed by the thundering growl of his voice in her head. _Don’t fight it, or this will hurt._

 

Some wise part of her responded to his threat and she stilled her thrashing. Her chest heaved for air as she stared at the horizon with wide, unseeing eyes. _You goddamnedbastard, don’t you fuckingDARE––_

 

She knew he’d hear her thoughts and kept with the curses, pulling hard at fistfuls of his hair. A deep chuckle of amusement rumbled through her head as that finger continued to test, dipping deeper into her untried opening. 

 

As he penetrated her ass, part of her mind unmoored itself and began to drift, even as her stomach performed somersaults. She heard herself whimper wordlessly. _He wasn’t going to stop._

 

In the lull, all appeared serene; the night was silent save her desperate, panting gasps and the gentle slosh of water at her breasts. Such a cruel deception, one that fit seamlessly into the impossibility of all that he was. Beneath the surface, so much was happening to her, unseen, like a dirty secret– his fingers pressing where they shouldn’t – _so sensitive!_ – tongue busily lapping her clit – _decadent and slippery_ – the perfect foil to confuse the issue below. She blinked furiously, overwhelmed by sensation as his finger fully breached her, sliding smoothly into her ass. 

 

Her back arched and she gave an unsettled groan, her protest resurrecting as she tried in vain to disentangle herself. She wriggled but felt him all the more. “No!!! No no nonononoooo…” 

 

Her litany trailed away into the balmy night, unacknowledged. He only tightened his grip as he devoured her greedily, her writhing serving to deepen his penetration into that forbidden part of her body.

 

Without warning, two fingers plunged into her softening cunt. The move was fatal, and she gasped as if shot. Her head fell back and the stars above swam and faded, replaced by a vision. Her eyes stared unseeing at the sky, beholding her own silhouette limned with starlight, hair oil-slick with seawater, breasts strewn with pearls. She stared wide-eyed at the sight of herself rocking with his underwater onslaught, distantly aware of the real-time sync of what she was feeling and what she was seeing. The vision was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of approval that was _not her own,_ and strangely, didn’t feel like _him_ either... 

 

It faded as quickly as it had come, leaving her taut, quivering with waning shock. His mouth sucked at her clit, not letting up the pressure for even a second. When he withdrew his fingers partway, the double slide had her pitching forward, at last emitting a strangled cry as he thrust back into both openings at once.

 

Rey heard herself pleading, words slurred as she pulled at him weakly. She was so full of him, the strange heaviness inside her ass becoming less foreign as he continued to finger both openings. The feeling of double penetration was unbelievable, melding with the luscious pulses of his tongue, and she was alarmed to find herself lightly rocking against the stimulation, riding his thrusts without conscious thought.

 

 _You’ll have it whether you want it or not_. The thought was ambiguous, so subtle that she couldn’t tell if it was her own mind caving or something he’d planted. She groaned and spread her legs wider for him, giving in to the onset of lust with a fevered shiver. 

 

His clever fingers curled against the upper wall of her channel, rubbing her so exquisitely that she ground her hips against his face. Up she rose to meet him, throwing back her head as her mind shorted out. White-hot pleasure arced from her groin, lighting up the network of her nerves, spreading out like a bomb blast. His fingers stroked harder, jolting her pelvis with each connection, ratcheting the intensity until she thought her bones were melting. Everything from the waist down – gone, distilled into liquid sugar. 

 

Vaguely, she realized how she loud her moans were, throaty cries that joined the rhythmic susurration of moving water. Some vestige of logical thought crept onto the demolished plane of her awareness; were there any witnesses? Had the sounds of her cries drawn any poor souls to observe the strange sight of her being fucked sight unseen? Her head swiveled drunkenly to face the shoreline, too far gone to feel anything but muddled curiosity. The night played tricks on perception, but she thought she saw a figure, dark and solid amongst the thickest shadows. And was that… a glint of red? A serpentine curl of smoke rising lazily into the air? 

 

Kylo burst from the sea in a shower of electric blue droplets, filling her sight with the planes of his formidable body. His hands held her buttocks in an iron vise, and he kept that finger anchored in her ass. 

 

His eyes locked with hers, dark and commanding. _We’re not done yet._

 

She felt her insides liquefy as he pulled her roughly to meet his kiss. He tasted of salt and arousal, and she moaned around the thrust of his tongue. His skin was pyretic, all slick, ungiving muscles in contrast to the fluidity of the sea. She embraced the temptation, rubbing her body against his, absorbing his heat as she locked her thighs about his waist. 

 

He began to croon in that orphic language, filling the space between her ears with dark enchantment. _Auktoi Is Kia Zhol. Tegu Zhol Vykti Tu. Antai Kash Nie Lausk. Nie Irus'. Nie Tarnas._ She clung tighter to him, whimpering as he repeated the refrain, a hedonistic call that lit down her spine and fanned through her muscles like wildfire.

 

He continued to finger her ass, a filthy reminder of how much she ached for that motion elsewhere. The sea flowed like liquid stars, lighting up with their movements as she returned his kisses, boldly slipping a hand down his chiseled torso to find the object of her desire. Her fingers slid lovingly over his monstrous shaft before palming what she could and stroking. 

He’d stopped kissing her, allowing her to suck at the corner of his lower lip as she reveled in the danger of him, the infernal temptation of his velvety skin.

 

A hand crept up her back, skirting her throat to hook a thumb under her jaw. Holding her firmly, he tipped her face up to meet his stare. The demon gazed down, very nearly purring with smug pleasure. Tears welled, and the forgotten vestige of her humanity spilled over her cheeks even as she lifted herself over the shaft that bobbed invitingly against her stomach. She needed it _in_. 

 

His fathomless eyes glittered, dark, knowing. 

 

Absorbing his damning smile, she wedged the plush tip of his cock into position, shivering at their size difference.

 

“Go on,” he coaxed, licking his lip suggestively. “You're so close… _take it_.”

 

Choking on the ash of her own downfall, Rey sank upon the pillar between her legs, slow and deliberate. She bit her lip, grimacing as each delicate band of muscle gave way, stretching tenderly on his widening shaft. When she could take no more she pushed him deeper, her mouth falling open as she embraced the sacrificial ache of his penetration. 

 

His eyes narrowed, glinting blood-red as he savored the action. _Oh, how you please me._

 

Her brain spun out at the praise, and she lay back into the water, her upper body floating in mock serenity. She throbbed violently around the hard outline of his shape, trying to remain still as she teetered on the edge of an orgasm. 

 

“Thaaat’s right,” he crooned, letting her languish in the salty sea. “Just relax on that cock, angel. Feel it within you...” Her hair floated in a silken nimbus about her shoulders as she panted lightly, the strands of pearls tickling as they drifted over her chest. His words barely registered with the roar of blood in her ears, what was left of her mind asking itself how the ache of a wound could feel _so damn good._

 

He bent over her, the star-studded sky replaced with his dark silhouette. She felt the torrid breath of her monster, a wash of heat over her offered throat. He did nothing in half-measures, and the lush caress of his mouth was followed by a sharp bite. She gasped, waiting in morbid anticipation as his hips rocked back. 

 

“It’s been too long since I dismantled you,” he murmured darkly. 

 

His cock jackknifed and she shrieked, unable to reconcile the intense wedding of pleasure and pain. Her hands wound into his night-black hair, holding tight as he began to fuck her with deep, jarring strokes: once, again, and on the third thrust, she broke dutifully for him. She lost track of what her body was doing as her core convulsed hard, crying mindlessly in the throes of inky, toxic rapture. 

 

There was no strength in her body as he yanked her head back, and she was only distantly aware of his savage growl. “Good girl, now drink me in. Take it– _every fucking drop_.” He gave several bruising thrusts, carving a place in the shape of him before unleashing a hot flood within her. 

 

She gasped, her nails gouging blindly as the visceral pulse of his spend filled her, surging like a beating heart. Red rapture bloomed behind her eyelids as, with a long, undulating wail, she tripped straight into another orgasm. The fearful parade of her cries echoed across the calm seas as her cunt contracted on his length, milking his demonic essence in utter supplication. 

 

Without warning, the kaleidoscope of night sky dissolved into a play of images; an aberrant moment when his supernatural awareness bled sideways into her brain. Visuals of strangers asleep in their darkened bedrooms smeared across her mind, their breath erratic, faces contorted in horror – they lived her torment and carnal ecstasy, felt the cut of the blade as the demon’s name scored ever deeper into her mortal soul. 

 

Their night terrors born of the sound of her cries. 

 

She lay in his arms with him tucked deep inside her, marooned amidst the roiling storm of his triumph, the fathomless delight he took in defiling her; knew he’d do it again, and again, until there was nothing left of her but an empty husk.

 

Unable to bear it, her mind folded in on itself, turning away and fleeing to the very core of her being.

 

There in the primordial darkness, a tiny, impermeable flame drew her attention, steady burning like a forgotten candle. She flitted to it, her night eyes flinching at its hot, golden light. It dazzled her, and she cupped it tenderly, basking in the glow. It flickered, cognizant, knowing, _fierce._  

 

 _Find a way…_ It guttered, before flaring even brighter _. Live long enough to make him pay..._

 

* * *

 

 

**Glossary**

 

Akeldama – Field of blood. A biblical name with Aramaic roots, referring to a field outside Jerusalem which was purchased with the thirty pieces of silver that Judas Iscariot received for pointing Jesus out to his arresters. The field was acquired with "the price of his wickedness," which is largely symbolic in an upcoming chapter. The story goes that Judas somehow came to fall, and that in such a way that he burst open in the middle and spilled his guts. Henceforth, it was called Akeldama, the Field of Blood (χωριον αιματος). 

 

Fare – Tahitian for house.

 

Naupaka – A thick, leafy shrub found growing along the beaches of Hawaii and the South Pacific.

 

Kylo’s refrain, translated from Sith: There is no hope. No light. No salvation. Give in to it. Let it take you.


End file.
